


The Profound Pair

by CD (thecollective)



Series: Destiel Smut Brigade 2015 Winter Challenge [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Boys Kissing, Coming Out, Eventual Smut, Homophobic Slurs, Light Angst, M/M, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:45:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecollective/pseuds/CD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets traded from the Vancouver Canucks to the Boston Bruins on a Tuesday afternoon. The trade doesn’t surprise him, but the ache in his gut does. A guy drinks a little too much and trashes one hotel room too many, fucks the wrong girl, and all of a sudden he’s out on his ass, moving to another city, thousands of miles away from everyone he knows, atoning for his sins with the bitter taste of loneliness like bile in his throat.</p><p>In which Dean and Cas are hockey players who come out to the NHL.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dump and Chase

Dean gets traded from the Vancouver Canucks to the Boston Bruins on a Tuesday afternoon. The trade doesn’t surprise him, but the ache in his gut does. A guy drinks a little too much, trashes one hotel room too many, fucks the wrong girl maybe, and all of a sudden he’s out on his ass, moving to another city, thousands of miles away from everyone he knows, atoning for his sins with the bitter taste of loneliness like bile in his throat.

Sam and Bobby walk him to the gate at Vancouver International. They make damn sure he knows they’ll both be out the next weekend to get him settled in his new place and Charlie’s promised to come as soon as she can get some time off. To Boston. Two thousand, five hundred miles away. Dean doesn’t know anyone in Mass, but Coach Shurley had wanted him on the Bruins, even after his scandal with Cassie, also known as Mrs. Rufus Turner, wife of the esteemed owner of the Vancouver Canucks, so it's not like Dean doesn't recognize his luck at not being blackballed from hockey altogether. It's just, he won the Cup with Van. His friends, brother and Bobby are in Van. Boston seems like an entire world away.

He checks his phone one last time before take off and there’s a text from Castiel Novak, probably meant to forge team spirit and camaraderie in the new guy, or some shit. Dean doesn't text him back. Castiel is new team captain this year and the best left wing in the League, but he’s also a little weird and somewhat socially awkward, if his interview tapes and the text message on Dean's iPhone screen are anything to go by.

**Wednesday, 11:13am Novak #04 (Boston LW/C): Hello, Dean. The team and I are looking forward to skating with you.**

Then there's a string of bee emojis?? Dean isn't sure what to make of those.

So, yeah, not replying.

After five hours in the air, forty-five minutes at the luggage carousel and a hired car that never shows up, Dean thinks, not for the first time, that he probably should have just fucked off hockey in high school and taken over the family business. He understands cars, engines. People, not so much. There’s no way him, on his own in a new town, without Sam or Bobby as his buffer--without Sam or Bobby to translate Dean-speak into something that the world can understand and accept--well, it’s a bad idea. People tend to find him cocky and abrasive, which, to his own detriment, he has to admit he probably is. He’s also a bit of a mother hen and somewhat co-dependent and he already misses his brother and Charlie, even though it hasn’t been a full day, yet. When Dean checks his phone after landing, he notices Castiel is the only person to have contacted him since he left Vancouver  (which, he doesn't expect to get a phone call every five minutes, but still) so, he hails a cab and shoots off a quick text to his new captain on the ride to the hotel.

**Wednesday, 5:35pm Dean Winchester: Just made it in. CU @ training camp, bright & early tomorrow!**

**Wednesday, 5:38pm Novak #04 (Boston LW/C): See you then, Dean.**

Dean shakes his head and frowns at his phone. It’s not personable, but it’s something, and the fact that Castiel has already reached out to him actually means a lot to Dean. Castiel has a reputation as a powerhouse and already seems pretty protective of his team unity even though he’s been Captain for about thirty seconds, which, of course, Boston fans think Dean will fuck up with his arrival. Because he’s a Winchester, Dean really wants to prove everybody wrong while also kicking butt on the ice. He’s not gonna screw around, he's not gonna give in to the rumours or the negative publicity and he's definitely going to be a team player.

***

Boston isn’t half bad. He hits training camp and pre-season with a vengeance. Luckily, Dean’s been lifting and running on the regular since high school, but pre-season is meant to fuck everybody up. Working with new linemates is hard, but familiar. Being on the ice does wonders for Dean’s attitude, and he starts to feel better about the trade almost immediately. Vancouver is great, but the Canucks can go fuck themselves, honestly. He'd been with them for 2 years and they hadn't blinked at trading him after the Turner scandal. Dean had moved his family to Van, had planned on retiring in Van, but he’s starting to think Boston is where he's meant to be. Over the first 5 years of his career, Dean had been bounced around, never setting down roots. When he was traded in 2013, he thought _finally._  Vancouver was the kind of place where he wanted grow old. Older. When he met Cassie, he had thought he’d finally found something to hold onto, until she dropped him as soon as her husband found out about them. Thank god Boston had wanted him after that, or his career could have been over. And, if he’s being honest, he’s really glad that he ended up in Boston. The team, the city--both feel like the fresh start he desperately needs. Dean gels with the boys instantly, and after teams, he just _knows_ playing the front line with Castiel and Kevin will bring them to the playoffs. Soon, Sam is talking about schools and opportunities available in an Ivy League town, while Dean reminds Bobby how much he needs his best trainer and favorite old man. They spend weekends exploring restaurants within a five mile radius of Dean’s condo, eventually finding a hole-in-the-wall diner that is within walking distance and serves the best apple pie in the city (according to Castiel Novak), which Dean visits at least twice a week. And then there's Cas. Castiel. Dean calls him Cas, now, and they start to spend a lot of time together. At first, it’s because Coach sets their morning skate at the same time, so it’s easy for them to end up working out together. Sometimes (pretty much every morning) Dean swings by and picks up Cas, because Cas doesn’t own a car (he’s got a bicycle, though, and a motorcycle in storage). Dean, on the other hand, needs his Baby and had shipped his 1967 Impala over the day he arrived in town. Most mornings, they ride together in companionable silence, Led Zeppelin or some other classic rock thumping in the speakers before the sun rises. Cas sometimes points out places he thinks Dean would like to go eat, because food is Dean’s second favorite pastime behind hockey and in front of fixing cars. Then they skate together, and head into the gym.

At first, Cas is shy. He texts Dean memes (lots of cats, lots of unfunny bee jokes) and they talk about hockey. Dean tells Cas about his friends in Vancouver and all over the minors in Canada, and Cas takes Dean and Charlie to get pizza at Julio’s, in South Boston, that rivals any Dean’s had across North America. Charlie and Cas talk about anime and punk rock, and Dean marvels that this is the same guy who happens to be the first openly gay player in the NHL. Cas is a little dorky but also really brave and strong willed and came out in 2010, his first year playing professional. Dean remembers the blow back being vicious, at first, and it resurged when Cas was traded to Boston in 2012. He rode the wave and came out on top, getting the C on his jersey in his third year with the Bruins, right before Dean had traded into Beantown.

Dean sees Cas’ strength and a bit of his vulnerability up close one afternoon, when he calls asking for advice about how to deal with one of their defensive guys, Benny, who can’t seem to stay out of a fight on or off the ice. PR is having a field day and questioning Cas’ leadership abilities after a tape of Benny getting into a fist fight outside of a local pub is blasted on social media. Cas spends interview after interview defending Benny and their team strength, but Dean can tell it’s putting a strain on him. Plus, the situation reminds Dean of  a dozen he's been on the other side of. Cas is getting better at speaking to the media, but he’s goofy and a bit of a dork on camera on his best days, stilted and stiff on his worst. Dean does his best to help with pressroom bullshit, and even though they all have to do pressers at some point, that’s mostly stuff for the captain to deal with. Dean gets along fairly well with Benny, who plays defense and loves to hit, hard (Dean can relate too, because even though he plays Center, Dean still takes to the glass as often as he can, and gives a punch as good as he gets, which is to say, pretty damn good.) so he tells Cas to take Big Ben with a grain of rock salt and to keep doing what he’s doing, then he goes and has a talk with Benny.

“You gotta cut Cas some slack. It’s his first year as captain,” Dean tells Benny over beer and wings, his treat, of course. “We’re a team, man. We’ve got to have each other’s back. Cas has yours, now you’ve got to have his and relax, at least off the ice.”

“Yeah, brother, you’re right,” Benny tells him after a couple beers, with a knowing look that Dean ignores. “Glad to know Cap has a man like you to support him.”

Benny cools down, as much as is possible for the hot-blooded Cajun, and Cas has Dean to thank when the media stops hounding him about his “lack of people skills” and start asking about the profound bond that the left wing and the new center have. At training camp, Dean and Cas found an immediate chemistry, which the press and the fans love. They bounce off one another, slapping puck after puck into the net, working with Kevin Tran, a rookie and the fastest right wing Boston has ever seen, gaining goals and winning their first three games of the season. Dean _notices_ Cas all the time, always seems to know where he is and it helps them win, but it also confuses him, off the ice, because that hyper awareness doesn't stop. It isn’t until December, that Dean realizes he might be a little bit smitten.


	2. The Breakout

Once he notices Cas, Dean’s helpless against the onslaught. Cas might be awkward and dorky off the ice, but he’s a beast of a left wing, and without really meaning to, Dean falls for both personas. Each time they work together on a goal or splay out on Dean’s couch to watch Netflix, it becomes harder not to reach across for Cas when he always seems to be only an arm's length away. He is a really great team captain and the more time Dean spends with him, the more Dean’s impressed by Cas’ determination to be a kick ass leader and prove he earned that C on his jersey. Because he’s a mother hen and can spot one of his own, Dean doesn’t tease when Cas organizes post-game dinners like he’s fucking Martha Stewart, and keeps up with birthdays of everyone and their kids, like a walking kindness calendar, or some shit. Cas manages to integrate new trades into team activities fairly seamlessly, making sure that Dean, Kevin and Zeke, the new goalie, are at all of the holiday parties and charity events throughout the month. Predictably, Dean and Cas end up hanging out for most of the team events in December. They snap pictures for Cas' official Instagram account when they convince Zeke to dress up for the annual Ugly Sweater Christmas party at Coach Shurley’s house (well, Dean convinces Cas, then Cas digs into the whole “team spirit” speech to get Zeke to participate). Dean fucking loses it when Cas gets him a record player and the Led Zeppelin discography on vinyl, and isn’t the least bit embarrassed to have baked cookies for Cas to take home to his sisters on Christmas Eve. It isn’t until Sam says something at the big Boston v. Van game right before New Year’s, that Dean admits it to himself.

“Yeah, so you were amazing tonight, Dean,” Sam tells him when they finally settle into Sam’s living room with cold beer and Netflix (which is a bit weird without Cas, but he went back to the hotel with the other guys and Dean’s really not wishing he was there with them right now, obviously.). A bunch of his Vancouver friends showed up to the game to cheer him on. It had been so great to see Charlie, Bobby, Sam and Jess wearing orange, black and gold in a sea of blue and green. The majority of Vancouver fans hadn't been so happy to see him, especially after his 3 goals and 2 assists (to Cas’ 2 goals and 3 assists) that win them the game 6-2. With a triumphant glow and wicked smirk, Dean invites Cas to come with them to dinner at Hy’s, to which no one actually says anything, but he notices Charlie and Sam eyeballing the two of them all night. They see Lisa, who still works as a server at Hy’s and who, of course, proceeds to flirt shamelessly with Dean the entire night. Yeah, they slept together (a few times) but it never worked out, and certainly isn’t worth the quiet contemplation that comes over Cas at the dinner table until Dean shuts her down by basically ignoring her in favor of conversation with his friends and family (and Cas). Lisa gets the message and doesn’t say goodbye when her shift ends.    

“That was all Cas, man,” Dean replies to Sam, distracted by the lack of options on Netflix that he hasn’t already binge watched with Cas or Kevin back home and, _huh_. He thinks of Boston as home already, and it’s only been a few months.

“You got a hattie against your old team, dude, on your first time back at Rogers Arena since the trade.” Sam squints at him. “It’s not like you to be so modest over a hat trick,” he says, voice mild as he leans back into the couch and takes a sip of his beer. “So, uh, you and Cas, huh? The press says you two have a _profound bond_.” He leaves unsaid, “on the ice”, and waits for Dean to clarify.  

Heat rises on the back of his neck and Dean marvels at the fact that his little brother has managed to damper his joy over kicking ass in Vancouver in less than 3 minutes. Dean knows it’s an innocuous question, but it feels loaded, coming from Sam, especially in that know-it-all tone of voice. Leaning forward, he peers at the screen, ignoring his brother, which, Dean knows, will only get him out of answering for so long. Sam can always tell when he’s crushing on someone, anyhow. No use trying to hide it.

“He’s a friend,” Dean answers, finally, hoping that’s enough to convey the fact that he does not want to talk about this right now. Of course, it isn’t.

“But you like him.”

Fuck.

“Goddammit Sammy, it’s not like that. He’s a good guy. He befriended me when I had no one, I…” Dean pauses, unsure of what he wants to say next. “I needed someone and he was there. It’s not complicated,” Dean lies. Of course it’s complicated. Cas is his captain and his friend and Dean, well, Dean isn’t out. Not in the League. His friends and family know he’s bisexual, and he told Cas, but Dean’s always preferred to keep his business to himself. The National Hockey League may be open to all orientations, and it’s not like Dean’s embarrassed or ashamed of being bi, it’s just, he’s never had a serious relationship with a man and a one-night stand never seemed to warrant shouting from the rooftops, “I love cock!” He’s been playing professional hockey for (more than) a few years now, without the opportunity coming up (so to speak). Sam knows all this, and so he gives a long suffering sigh and turns his entire moose-body in Dean’s direction.

Double fuck.

“Dean, I just want you to be happy,” Sam says, forehead crinkled in that concerned way it gets and Dean kind of wants to crawl into an ice cave with his sticks and not come out til game day. He almost wishes Sam would chirp him. Instead, they sit quiet and contemplative until Sam puts on one of those Nat Geo docs that always puts Dean to sleep in less than twenty minutes.

And so it goes.

    ***

Right after that, the Bruins lose two games in a row during a homestand mid January and Cas becomes horrible company. They’ve been hanging out off the ice since Dean arrived in Boston, but after the first homestand loss, Cas bails on him (and the team) for dinner afterward, claiming exhaustion (which, to his credit, he probably was after that fucken hard ass game, but when Cas doesn’t so much as look at Dean or answer his texts for two days, it’s confusing, honestly). The second loss sends Cas into even worse of a funk, because even though he agrees to hang out, he acts like a sullen dick the entire night and Dean ends up being the one to beg off even before the old marrieds head home.

**Thursday, 4:30am Cas : Want to go for a run?**

**Thursday, 4:33am Dean: Right now?**

**Thursday, 4:33am Cas: Yes.**

**Thursday, 4:35am Dean: Alright. Pick you up in ten.**

When Cas texts him early the morning of their third homestand game to see if he wants to go on a run, Dean begrudgingly accepts the invitation, intent on clearing the air before game night. If they can’t work off the ice, it just makes it that much harder to get the goals, and Dean needs his Left. He needs Cas.    

They start off hard. It’s cold as balls outside, and even though it hasn’t snowed since they landed back in Boston, it’s cold enough for there to be ice on the ground from the week before. Cas likes to run in all weather, but, after spending the summer and then the fall with him, Dean knows that Cas loves the winter air most of all, and, Dean has to admit, the look is good on him. His face is ruddy with the chill, an orange beanie on his head covering what Dean knows is probably wild, sweaty, dark hair. The black hoodie he wears is hiding the lean, strong muscles of Cas’ arms and thick shoulders that Dean knows are home to two, broad angel wing tattoos that reach out to the air and the edges of his skin.

“What?”

The sound of Cas’ voice in the silent early morning air jolts Dean out of his dazed thought process. He focuses on Cas’ face, which is now turned to look at him. Oh. Dean is staring. Oops.

“What are you looking at?” Cas repeats, and Dean flushes, turning his head, not slowing his pace.

“What’s your problem, man? Why’re you being a dick to me?”

Cas doesn’t answer for a minute, and so they keep jogging side by side around Fresh Pond, which is 155 acres of ice and snow and everything Dean loves about Boston. He thinks that perhaps he could fall in love with the city, on mornings like this. The greens and stark whites of Cambridge remind him of home. The stones and dirt and back roads of Boston, the small, dirty ponds, so much like those where he learned to knock around a puck. It’s the same, but different, Dean thinks. With Cas here, it’s different. He knows he might already be a little in love with the town. He also knows that it’s not just the town or the team, it’s Cas.

“I hate losing,” Cas finally says.

“Seriously, Cas?” Dean huffs, incredulous. “Everyone hates losing. That doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole to me or rest of the team. Why’d you even ask me to come with you this morning if you don’t want to be around me?” He asks, stopping and trying not to sound as hurt as he feels. Cas stops too, a few feet ahead, but keeps his back to Dean.

“I do want to be around you, Dean. It’s just...I hate watching you lose,” he says, turning to meet Dean’s eyes. “You deserve a better captain than me, Dean. You’re so good and you’ve been through so much…” Cas trails off and Dean can’t believe this idiot.

“You’re an idiot,” Dean grumbles, walking up toward where Cas is still standing.

“I’m not sure I’m the right person for this job, Dean. I’m just going to keep letting everyone down. Letting you down,” Cas says and yeah, Dean needs to make this stop.

“Cas, you idiot, it’s only two games. We’ve lost before, why is this..?”

“Both games, I couldn’t keep myself or my team focused. Kevin and Gabe were all over the place, and me and you…” He trails off. Without thinking, Dean grabs his shoulders, and draws Cas’ eyes to his own.

“Me and you are fine.”

“Dean,” Cas whispers and they’re too close for Dean to escape Castiel’s penetrating gaze and he’s not really sure he wants to. “Dean,” he repeats, voice soft and gruff and lost in the wind only moments after the words are spoken. Before he can answer, Cas settles warm hands on his waist, which earns Cas a gasp that pushes out of Dean before he has time to think about it. Then he slots their mouths together, and Dean tastes Cas for the first time. It’s heady, the feel of Cas’ body flush against his, hands splayed across his back, chest pressed up against him. Cas’ mouth is warm and soft, his tongue wet and insistent. The stubble on Cas’ chin rubs across his in such a way that makes Dean whimper a little and Cas moans into his mouth, forcing Dean to swallow the noise up, greedy. The air around them is cold and the snow crunches underneath their feet, but Dean is warm, inside and out. A hundred thoughts bounce around in his head, but the top three consist of the fact that Cas is his captain and his friend and he’s a little bit, no, a lot, in love with him and what the hell is this going to mean for the team, and, is that four thoughts? Then, suddenly, Dean is breaking away.

“Cas, I…”

“Dean, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“No, no, it’s just I,” Dean pauses, and rests his forehead on Castiel’s, gazing down at Cas from beneath hooded lids. “What are we doing here?”

At that, Cas moves back and places a gentle hand on Dean’s chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m tired and it’s been a rough week and I think it’d be best if we didn’t...please,” he sounds desperate and it’s making Dean feel nauseous. “Forget this ever happened,” Cas says, voice stiff, like it is when he’s doing pressers after a lost game. He moves away from Dean and turns back to start jogging back onto the path that they came down and just like that, Dean feels the cold again. He wants to call after Cas, but doesn’t. He simply follows behind at a decent distance, all the way back to the car. They don’t talk on the ride home, and when Dean drops Cas off at his house and says he’ll see him at the game later, Cas mumbles something about pre-game and is out the door of the Impala without a glance back and Dean’s heart drops at the sight of it. He wants to tell Cas that he cares about him, that he’s been harbouring a crush on him for weeks, months even, but the words get stuck in his throat. That’s obviously not what Cas wants from him. That kiss was a fluke and Dean’s not about to get into some sort of fuckbuddy situation with his linemate. As he watches Cas walk up the steps to his brownstone and through the door, an ache settles down deep in his belly. It burns like dry ice.


	3. The Backcheck

Even though they hardly speak the rest of the day, something seems to have shifted between Dean and Cas. Dean’s hyper aware of Castiel, chucking the puck to him more than once without even so much as looking in his direction. He can feel the determination rolling off of Castiel as he assists Dean on their first goal of the night, passing it to him from the left corner of the rink, so that Dean can freeze Montreal’s goalie with a fake slapper. He pushes the puck right into the net, and just like that, the “Profound Pair” is back. The second goal comes when Dean high tips a perfectly timed puck to Cas, who bounces it right off Kevin’s stick and into the net. Dean is on hattie watch after he rounds the net and tucks the puck in before goalie Condon even knows he’s there. The next goal belongs to Montreal, who hits back hard as soon as the second period starts, getting the puck past Benny and the defensive line, right between the knees of Zeke into the Bruins’ net. They play defense for a while, but the Bruins saving grace is their offense, and Dean, Cas and Kevin have a fluidity on the ice that the team hasn’t seen in years. With ten minutes left in the third period, Montreal’s PK Subban gets a penalty call that lands him in the box for a good three minutes, which gives the Bruins a numbers edge that they take full advantage of. Dean and Cas run circles around the Canadiens, dominating the ice and allowing Kevin to hit a top shelf goal and end the powerplay. The game is called at 4-1, Bruins, and after losing the first two games in their Boston homestand, the rink is electric energy, the crowd pulsing with excitement that rubs off onto the players. The hard part of winning is over and now, it's time to celebrate.

In the locker room, Cas answers questions from a reporter at Daily Hockey, who wants to know how it feels to be captain of a top playoff contender team and about the chemistry of the Bruins’ powerhouse front line. Dean tries not to be, but he’s conscious of Cas, from across the ice or across the room, and he can’t help but smile when Cas does his usual deflection.

“Kevin Tran and Dean Winchester make the game look easy and they continue to make me look good,” Cas begins, sidetracking completely the comment about his captaincy. “The whole team has worked hard to be top ranked in the Atlantic Division, and we’re going to continue to play to win because these guys deserve to get to the playoffs.”

“Well, Castiel, you’re the guy who’s led them here,” the reporter says, and Dean can see Cas stiffen up at the praise. He chuckles under his breath and makes a big deal of walking into Cas’ eye line, behind the back of the reporter. He gives Cas a thumbs up, to which Cas kind of just stares, for a moment, before blinking slowly and setting his gaze back to the reporter. She isn’t prepared for the gummy smile Cas turns on her, nor does she see coming the chuckle Cas lets loose before stating simply,

“I try to lead by example, Becky. It’s these guys who inspire me and in turn, make me a better captain.” Dean is so damn proud of Cas at that moment and all that they’ve accomplished so far this season, he decides right then and there to not let a little crush or a misplaced attempt at a kiss ruin the relationship they’ve developed on and off the ice, and so he hangs around until Cas is done with media stuff.

“Wanna grab a beer?” Dean asks Cas as they trail behind the boys, most of whom have decided to head home early, even after the win, because after such a grueling schedule of back to back games (and one more on the calendar) most of the guys want to spend it with their families. Dean, though, he has no family in Boston, he only has Cas.

“I’m not sure that is a good idea, Dean,” Cas sighs, regret evident in his voice. They’re at the private lot, now, where Dean and the other boys keep their cars during the game, and Dean’s surprised to see Cas’ bike there, parked right next to the Impala.

“You drove today?” He blurts out.

Cas chuckles at Dean’s surprise. “I did. Thought it was time for me to get her out of storage.”

“I thought you didn’t like riding in the snow?”

“You don’t know everything about me, Dean,” Cas replies, short with him again, and it’s so unfair that he would be the one to be a dick, he would be the one to kiss Dean and continue to act like Dean was the bad guy. Maybe he was wrong to fall for Cas, but that doesn’t give him the right to…

Dean doesn’t even realize he’s said any of these things out loud until suddenly, Cas is all up in his space, crowding Dean against the cold metal of the Impala door.

“You've fallen for me?” Cas growls, breath hot on Dean’s neck, nipping at the vein there and Dean’s forgotten how to form cohesive sentences. He conveys his answer by fisting his hands in Cas’ hair and pulling him into a rough kiss, all teeth and tongue. Cas moans against Dean’s lips and then he’s pressed against Dean, who is pressed against the car, jeans cold against his ass, crotch hot against Cas, who has abandoned Dean’s mouth in favor of laving kisses on his neck. “If you like me,” Cas murmurs against his skin, causing Dean to shiver with want. “Why did you stop me this morning?” He asks, continuing to nibble at Dean’s neck while moving his hands from Dean’s waist, to shoulders to face and back down again in a very distracting manner, making it very difficult to word.

“I, mmm oh god, I like you, Cas, oh, yeah, please, and...mmm.. I don’t want a, fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this, a fuckbuddy, mmm…” Dean gets out the words and then knocks his head back against the metal door, involuntarily thrusting against Cas’ thigh as Cas continues his ministrations, humming against Dean’s skin. He moves his hands down and Dean knows what’s coming next, and God willing it will be him, but...he was supposed to be telling Cas something, wasn’t he? Dean can feel the drag of Cas’ cock in his jeans as he pushes against Dean, hands reaching for his. Dean’s breath catches, is Cas holding his hand right now? And then Cas has Dean’s keys to open the door to the Impala and is pressing Dean down into the leather seats and Dean decides he really, really likes this plan.

“I don’t...what? Now who’s the idiot?” Cas sighs and then they’re kissing again, but Cas is taking his time now, licking into Dean’s mouth tracing his lips with his tongue, hand cradling Dean’s face, thumb tracing the outline of his jaw. It’s sweet and slow and it makes Dean’s heart ache in his chest. Even with Cas pressed against him, head to toe, it’s not enough. Dean wants Cas all the time, but he’ll take it. This. “I like you too,” Cas says then, reading Dean’s doubt. It's real easy-like, too, as if admitting his feelings is the simplest thing in the world, and shit, maybe it is, Dean thinks and then he’s not thinking any more because Cas’ hand is on his cock, and everything else falls away. Thrusting against the pressure, Dean rubs his denim clad crotch against Castiel’s warm hand.

“Cas…” Dean sighs. “Please, I need…”

“Sshh,” Cas whispers, rucking Dean’s shirt up and moving down his body with his teeth until his face is ghosting Dean’s crotch. Cas mouths him through his jeans and it takes everything inside of Dean not to come right then and there. Cas knows it too, because he pulls back and looks at Dean in the dim light of the evening, eyes dark and lust blown. He’s panting just a little and Dean gets a fresh wave of desire coursing through him at the thought that _he_ did that. _He_ made Cas look disheveled and so, incredibly turned on. Before either one of them can speak and break the spell, Cas is unbuckling Dean’s belt and Dean’s toeing off his shoes and tugging at their pants and boxers and then they’re both nude, from the waist down. Leaning back on his haunches between Dean’s knees, Cas takes himself in hand and just stares at him, until Dean squirms underneath the gaze, stripped bare and raw with desire. Cas leans down and takes Dean into his mouth and he can’t help himself, he bucks up into it, but Cas doesn’t seem to mind. His own cock in hand, Cas moans around Dean’s dick, licking a hot stripe down the veiny underside and taking Dean’s balls into his mouth one by one. He slurps at them and the sound of wet, slippery sex causes Dean’s dick to pulse with pre-come.

“Fuck, Cas, come on,” Dean moans, unashamed at the need he hears in his own voice. “I want you inside me.”

Cas groans, mouth around Dean’s balls, wet and tight. Dean feels the vibration run up his spine and another pulse of pre-come leaks through his slit. Reaching beneath the seat, Dean grabs at his bag with his free hand until he feels Cas lift his head.

“What are you doing, Dean?” he asks, voice wrecked.

“Lube,” Dean grunts.  

Apparently, that’s all he needed to say, because Cas grabs the bag, pulls out the tube of lubrication, slicks up his fingers and before Dean can say _hat trick_ , Cas’ index is circling his rim and plunging inside. Soon enough, Dean’s rocking into it as Cas fucks him with his hand, first a single finger, then there’s two, scissoring him open, pressing against his prostate, making him keen. When he feels three plunging deep inside, Dean grinds into Cas, hips flush, riding Castiel’s hand. It’s too much, not enough.

“More, I need...more, Cas, come on. You gotta fuck me.” Dean hears the rip of plastic and the soft slide of a condom and then Cas’ tip is nudging Dean’s hole and he can’t help himself, he pushes back and the head of Cas’ cock is inside of him. Cas doesn’t wait for a written invitation (thank God), he just slides the rest of his cock inside and drapes himself over Dean. Dean can hear him panting with the exertion it takes to keeps still when you’re balls deep inside of another man, and so he does Cas a favor. “Move,” He commands.

And boy, can Cas move. He snaps his hips back and forth like a piston, pressing Dean’s face into the seat of the Impala and he’s sure glad that they don’t have a game for two days because it’s going to take Dean that long to be able to walk right, not that he’s complaining. Cas has his hands in Dean’s hair, he’s running them along Dean’s spine, down the curve of his ass, murmuring endearments and words of praise and Dean can’t take it. Any of it. Castiel pushes him towards a precipice, a wide open place that he’s always avoided, towards feelings he never thought he deserved. And Cas can read him. He knows that Dean’s overwhelmed, he must, because he slows and gathers Dean up into his arms, rocking slowly into him, pressing kisses onto his shoulders, _to the freckles there_ , Cas whispers into Dean’s ear. Dean turns his face and kisses Castiel, soft and pliant, trying to convey all the things he can’t say with his words. He gives himself over to Cas, and it’s so, so good, just like he knew it would be.

After, they lie in the back seat of the Impala, covered in their own mess, but not moving, not yet. It’s begun to snow outside, but inside the car, it is still sticky with the humidity of their shared body heat. Cas has his head on Dean’s chest, hair wrecked, face flushed and soft.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” Dean whispers.

“You are.”

“I’ve never done this before,” he goes on.

“Had sex with a man?”

“No, you ass, been in love.”

Cas’ eyes light up at the admission, but he doesn’t say anything, simply waits. Watches.

“It happened so fast, the trade, moving to Boston, meeting you,” Dean continues, letting his eyes fall closed when Castiel maneuvers his head back onto Dean’s chest. “I was so scared, coming here, and then, we became,” he waves the hand not curled around Castiel in the air. “This. And everything seemed to fall into place.” He pauses to look at Castiel. “But how do you feel? What do you want?”

Cas sucks in a breath, but his fingers don’t stop moving, gently fluttering up and down Dean’s arm, underneath his t-shirt, tracing the skin there. “You. However you’re ready to have me,” he answers finally. “You’re not out.”

It’s not a question.

“No.”

“We can keep it secret then, if that would be better for you. Whatever you need, for however long you need it.”

Dean’s heart breaks a little, because he knows that Cas means it. He’ll be Dean’s secret, even though Cas has been out since he joined the League five years before. Dean refuses to be the one to shove Cas back into the closet. In fact... Before he can think better of it, Dean tugs his phone out of his pants pocket and angles it up above their heads. The light is shit, but on the screen, you can just make out Cas’ face against Dean’s stubbled jaw. It’s impossible to tell if they’re on a couch or in the backseat of a car, and it looks like they’re both wearing clothes, even though it’s really only t-shirts and absolutely no pants. Satisfied, Dean’s lips turn up in a smile while Cas remains pensive and still. He snaps a pic and it’s only then that Cas smiles, snuggling down deeper into Dean, then groaning when Dean moves both his hands to grip his phone to type.

“What are you doing?” Cas grumbles. Dean shows him his screen, silently asking for approval with an arched eyebrow and a hesitant shrug. Cas snakes an arm across Dean’s chest and reaches up to kiss the bolt of his jaw. “If you’re sure,” he replies and gives a little gasp of surprise when Dean hits the blue check, posts the picture on Instagram with the caption, “celebrating a win!” and tags Castiel’s official account without any preamble.

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that, Winchester? Coach is going to kill us.”

“Nah...it’ll be fine. We'll be fine.' He stretches his arms arove his head and wrinkles his nose at the feel of dried cum on his thighs. "Now let’s go get cleaned up, grab some pie and go back to my place to do this again, whadaya say?” Dean asks, as he plants a quick kiss to Cas’ nose. He feels lighter than he has in years, even if Coach and Sam and pretty much everyone Dean knows is going to be blowing up his phone in about ten seconds, looking at Cas in his arms, Dean thinks that this, _he_ is worth all of it and more.

 


	4. Locker Room Bromance

**Thursday, 10:45pm Kevin “The Prophet” Tran: DID YOU SEE WHAT DEAN JUST POSTED ON INSTA??**

**Thursday, 10:46pm Zeke “Gandalf” Goldov: What is an “Insta”?**

**Thursday, 10:50pm Gabriel “Sweetie” Novak: That asshat better be nice to my cousin! I know how to kill a man 6 different ways.**

**Thursday, 10:53pm Kevin “The Prophet” Tran: hahha your cuz is gettin some from dean winchester yo**

**Thursday, 10:55pm Zeke “Gandalf” Goldov: What is an “Insta” and how is Castiel getting some from Dean? I’m confused.**

**Thursday, 10:56pm Gabriel “Sweetie” Novak: Seriously Gandalf, you are an old middle earth wizard trapped in a hot russian man’s body. *see attached picture***

**Thursday, 10:56pm Kevin “The Prophet” Tran: I’m gonna chirp them so hard. Is that Dean’s house or… THE IMPALA OMG OT3, anyone???**

**Thursday, 11:00pm Zeke “Gandalf” Goldov: It is eleven. I must sleep. Also, I do not understand any of this conversation.**

**Thursday, 11:10pm Kevin “The Prophet” Tran: TBH i’m not surprised. those 2 eye fuck each other all day long. finally they admit it!!!**

**Thursday, 11:15pm Gabriel “Sweetie” Novak: I am gonna kill cas for not telling me first**

**Thursday, 11:16pm "Big Ben" Lafitte: Some of us have to wake up early for morning skate. Glad to know those two are finally fucking. Now get me out of your goddamn group chat so i can get some sleep!**

***

Dean and Cas wake up their first morning together to about 30 missed messages/phone calls apiece, and 1,734 likes on Instagram, 683 retweets, and an email from Coach Shurley, addressed to both of them requesting they stop by his office before the team’s optional morning skate.

“Do you regret it?” Cas asks over breakfast in Dean’s kitchen nook. He leaves his subject unsaid so that Dean might discertain he means them having sex, posting the picture, spending the night, telling the world...there are so many things that "it" could refer to, honestly. At least he has pancakes, which, according to Dean, is best thing for a hangover (which neither one of them have) or a potential shit storm backlash over their revealed relationship (which, yes, is probably going to happen). Dean looks thoughtfully at his cakes, swirling a piece of the soft bread through the Canadian maple syrup soaking his plate before taking a bite and then answering.

“Mun muv mit, mass,” Dean mumbles around a mouthful of breakfast. He grins at Castiel’s furrowed brow and tilted head, swallows a very large bite of Winchester special chocolate chip pancakes and takes a polite swig of coffee before repeating, “None of it, Cas.” He frowns, then, stiffening his back against the wooden kitchen chair. His eyes go dull and face blank and suddenly all Cas wants to do is make sure he never sees that look on Dean’s face again. “Do you? I mean, we could still…” he trails off when Castiel steps out of his seat and slides onto Dean’s lap. Cas lifts the sticky fork from Dean’s fingers, careful not to get syrup on himself and pushes Dean’s plate toward the middle of the table. When all the dishware and food is out of the way, Castiel flips his other leg across Dean’s lap and straddles him. They’re both wearing boxers and t-shirts at the breakfast table, and Cas takes advantage of the fact that there are only two thin layers of flimsy cotton separating his cock from Dean’s and grinds a dirty figure eight into Dean’s crotch, reveling in the hitch in Dean’s breath and the fact that his face is now flushed, eyes slack with desire and the other look, the one that made Castiel’s chest ache, is nowhere to be found. Bucking up into the friction, Dean pushes against Castiel and the table screeches as it moves a half inch across the linoleum.

Cas hums, wrapping an arm around Dean’s neck. “You taste so Canadian,” he murmurs into Dean’s skin, and Dean lets loose a chuckle that rises up from his chest and Cas wants to hear that sound every morning as long as he can.

“You’re such a dork,” Dean whispers.

The kiss tastes like maple and chocolate and Cas doesn’t hesitate before he’s plunging his tongue into the warm, wet heat of Dean’s mouth.

“That’s captain dork, to you, Winchester,” Cas murmurs against Dean’s smile and reaches down in between them to rub the heel of his hand against Dean’s hard cock. Dean tosses his head back and groans, which gives Castiel a perfect chance to latch onto the vein there, at the underside of Dean’s chin, that he’s always wanted to taste. In fact, there’s another thing he’s always wanted to taste.

“We should take this to the showers,” Cas finally says, after sucking a small purple bruise into the skin of Dean’s naked shoulder. He knows his voice is wrecked, and his cock throbs painfully at the sight of Dean’s plush, pink lips swollen from kissing, hair standing straight up from where Cas has been running his fingers through it, green pupils blown black, freckled lids hooded. “Holy shit, Winchester, let’s take this to the showers, now,” Cas growls, sliding off Dean’s lap and pulling at his hands, breakfast forgotten.

“Sure thing, Captain, my Captain.” Dean waggles his eyebrows and smirks when Cas pulls him out of the kitchen, which isn’t fair in the least, so Cas pushes Dean up against the hallway wall and kisses him breathless, only breaking away when the need for air becomes too much to ignore.

They stumble into the shower, and Cas proceeds to touch Dean in all the places he hadn’t the night before. He runs his hands over Dean’s naked body, flushed from arousal and the hot water running over them before dropping to to his knees. He takes Dean into his mouth and hums around his cock, caressing Dean’s balls in his hands before sliding a finger between his ass cheeks. Dean keens, arching his back, simultaneously trying to thrust deeper into Cas’ mouth and gain friction against his hole. He whines and Cas takes pity on him, circling his hole and then plunging a single digit in, down to the knuckle.

“Nngg...Cas, shit.” Dean drops his chin against his chest and Cas can hear his shallow breaths echoing against the shower walls. Beneath the strumming of water against the tiles is a nonstop litany of praise for Cas falling from Dean's lips that almost causes him to lose focus, the need to touch himself overwhelming. But Cas is team captain of one of the world's premiere hockey clubs and a natural born leader, and so he takes charge before his cock can get the best of him, assessing the situation and determining the best course of action to obtain the desired outcome, which is to say, make Dean scream his name. In one swift movement, he removes his mouth from Dean's dick, drapes Dean's legs over his shoulders, presses Dean's back against the shower wall, and plunges his tongue deep inside. Above him, Dean squeaks a noise he'll probably deny later and holds on to Castiel's head with his hands and his thighs, quivering and shaking as Cas works him open with his tongue. It's wet, and uncomfortable, and probably the hottest thing Cas has ever done to or with another man. Dean is absolutely ravaged--his entire body taunt above Cas. Dean works his own thick red member, fucking into his fist, head thrown back against the wall, entire weight resting on Castiel, as if he knows Cas can take it. And yeah, he can. Cas eats Dean out loud and sloppy, hands spreading Dean's cheeks as he licks into him. Cas can feel Dean's stuttered movements as he arches his back off the shower wall and pushes his hole against Castiel's face.

When Dean comes, it's with Cas' name on his lips.

As soon as Cas lowers Dean down onto wobbly legs, Dean slides down onto his knees and takes Cas into his hands, kissing him as he strokes his cock once, twice, three times and then Cas is coming, shooting stripes of white across Dean's chest and thighs and softening dick. They sit there, on the shower floor, the evidence of their love making winding itself down the drain and they kiss. They kiss until the water is cold and then they get out of the shower and kiss some more. They kiss as they get dressed, Dean pulling Cas in by his (borrowed) t-shirt and running his fingers through his hair right after Cas has somewhat succeeded in taming it with Dean's hair gel. They kiss before getting into the Impala and driving to the Bruins offices down at the Garden and then they kiss once more, before they head down into the executive offices. They decidedly do not kiss, nor do they even touch, once they arrive at the huge double doors of Coach Shurley's office.

"Boys, he'll be with you in a sec," Pamela, the PR lady says when she pokes her head out of Chuck's door, which, Cas surmises, probably isn't  good thing. 

"It's a good thing that she's here, right?" Dean whispers to him. 

Cas shakes his head. "It means they've already discussed us, probably come to some sort of decision before we even get a chance to tell our side of the..."

"There is no side of the story, Cas. We're out, we're together. Worse they can do is trade one of..." He stops. "Me. Worse they can do is trade me. Fuck."

"Dean, they're not going to..."

"Dean, Cas. Come in here, please," Pamela interrupts, opening Coach's door and ushering them into the office. Inside, sits the General Manager of the Bruins, Joshua Eden, Coach Shurley, Pamela Barnes, Public Relations for the Bruins and a face that Castiel recognizes, but has never actually met in person. "Dean Winchester, Castiel Novak, this is Naomi Sinclair, the founder of The You Can Play Project," Pamela tells them before taking her seat around the conference table, next to Chuck. Cas steps up to Naomi, who doesn't smile, but shakes his hand and Dean's and then motions them to sit. 

"Please, have a seat," Naomi says, running an unconscious hand down to smooth her pale grey business suit. Chuck doesn't speak, simply nods at Cas, who sits down between Dean and Joshua Eden. 

"Mister Eden," Cas nods before turning back to the stranger at the table. Dean, to his credit, stays very quiet, flashing a shy smile to Naomi when they shake hands and exchanging handshakes with Joshua Eden and Coach Shurley before taking his seat next to Castiel. 

"Guys, what the hell was that?" Chuck blurts, and Cas can see Naomi visibly shudder. "Are you two...?" 

"Now Chuck, legally, we cannot do anything about it, we've discussed this already," Pam says shaking her head. 

"Fellas, now, you put us in a pickle, so to speak," Pamela chuckles. "The National Hockey League has no precedence for this. There has never before been two out players on a professional hockey team, and we have to tread carefully."

"The League wants to support the LGBTQA community," Joshua interrupts.

"You had to go posting pictures to social media? You couldn't warn me before the shit storm?" Chuck yelps, before sliding back into his chair. "Already the other coaches are saying we'll have an unfair advantage because of the...sex," he stage whispers that last word and Castiel is pleased to see Naomi finally breaking into a wry smile at the admission. 

"Coach Shurley, may I?" Naomi asks. Coach nods, abysmal as always and Cas straightens up to meet Naomi's piercing gaze. "Look, Mister Novak? Mister Winchester? Your club has asked us to work with you as you navigate this very unique situation. Do you know anything about our organization?" Naomi asks even as she slides a colorful brochure across the table to each of them.

"Yeah," Dean answers, finally. "Your project is a lifeline for young, gay hockey players. The AHL has already given their public support of You Can Play, while the NHL has been woefully silent." 

Cas raises an eyebrow at him. 

"What? I pay attention to stuff," Dean mumbles, which earns him an eye roll from Castiel. 

"What does this have to do with us?" Cas asks. 

"Mister Winchester," Naomi begins, ignoring him. "Your post on Instagram and the subsequent social media outlets of you and Mister Novak, for the lack of a better word, _post-coital_ ," she spits out, "was irresponsible and not thought out. You are both public figures not only in the spotlight for fans, but with an entire team of men who look up to you as role models." Her voice doesn't rise, in fact, it has no inflection at all, and it makes Cas think of one of those cyborgs on _Star Trek_ that Dean made him watch a couple of Saturdays ago, on a day off. It's disconcerting that she represents what Cas truly believes is a good cause, yet Naomi herself seems off putting--cold and calculated. 

"Mister Novak."

Cas had drifted off from the conversation and blinks to find Dean, Chuck, Joshua, Pamela and Naomi staring at him. 

"Mister Novak, I asked if you would you be willing to, along with Dean, become a representative for You Can Play? You're already an inspiration to young, gay hockey players and fans since you revealed your sexuality in 2010, but your influence would be tenfold with You Can Play," Naomi tells him. 

"Honey, this way, you two can date, be it in the public eye, and also work toward equality for the LGBTQA community within the National Hockey League," Pam inters. "It's a win win."

"Wait a minute," Dean interrupts. "We haven't even said we were dating! We haven't even figured out what we are. How are we supposed to go around being inspirational to people when we're barely navigating through what we've got going on?" 

Dean is sputtering, an embarrassed flush running up his neck. Cas wonders how he missed it. Of course this is going to be more difficult for Dean. He's basically come out, with the entire hockey world suddenly in his business. Again. After everything he's been through, with the trade, the scandal with the Turners and the Canucks, Cas knows that he needs to give Dean a moment to process this entire situation without prying eyes. Cas knows this like he knows without looking when Dean's going to pass the puck from center ice, as his friend, his linemate and his captain. 

"Can we get a minute, please?" Cas asks the room, standing and motioning Dean to do the same.

"Of course," Joshua Eden answers. Dean looks up at him, eyes stormy and Cas takes a deep breath and leads them both outside of Coach's office doors. When they are alone in the hallway, Cas pulls Dean into an empty office, shuts the door behind them, and gathers him in his arms.

"We don't have to do this."

"I know that, Cas," Dean huffs.

"You don't have to do this. We can claim locker room bromance and leave it at that."

Dean is quietly clenching his jaw over and over again and so Cas reaches up and runs a thumb across the stubble there, resting his other hand on Dean's neck. He flexes his fingers against his nape, scratching gently at the hair until Dean takes a breath and closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Castiel's.

"I'm scared."

"I know. Me too."

"But you're already..."

"Out?"

"Yeah."

"We can do this. Together."

"I need you here with me, Cas."

"I always come when you call."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Let's do it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, cap, come 'ere." Dean pulls Castiel into a slow, chaste kiss, cupping his face and snaking his free arm around Castiel's waist. "Let's go be role models or some shit."

***

Their first press conference with You Can Play is that afternoon at three, only a couple of hours before their home game against the Dallas Stars. Cas takes off right after the meeting--his bike is still in lot, and so he heads home to shower, change his clothes, and explain to his sisters and his mom what's about to happen. He knows Dean talks to his brother, because Dean texts him a string of party balloons and what looks like two men hugging. The message is simple.

**Friday, 2:07pm Dean: sam and charlie are gonna come down this weekend!!! charlie told me she's proud of us and sam said it's about time and that he doesn't want to have to kick your ass so you better not break my heart and also he mentioned something about the nhl and social justice and have you been in the team chat? OMG i am going to kill the prophet ISTG**

****Friday, 2:10pm Cas: I could never hurt you.****

********Friday, 2:11pm Cas:**** Please don't kill kevin before I get the chance to kill Gabriel and get out of town.** **

****Friday, 2:11pm Dean: geez cas, you can't just say things like that :*)** **

********Friday, 2:11pm Dean: if this hockey thing doesn't work out we can travel from town to town hunting down monsters who gossip about bisexual hockey players** ** ** **

********Friday, 2:13pm Cas: I'm in.** ** ** **

********Friday, 2:14pm Dean: so we're really doing this??** ** ** **

************Friday, 2:15pm Cas: In about 45 minutes, yes.** ** ** ** ** **

****************Friday, 2:16pm Dean: i'm glad we're not hiding US. not sure about being a role model but it's important that kids see that even hot hockey studs like me and you have varying sexualities** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

********************Friday, 2:18pm Cas: Sometimes you really surprise me, Dean.** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

****************Friday, 2:18pm Cas: In a good way. I've got to get on the road. See you at the Garden in a few minutes :) :) :)** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

****************Friday, 2:20pm Dean: don't text and drive. leaving now!** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

********************* ** ** ** ** ** ** **

The questions at the presser are predictable.

The reporters want to know how the relationship will affect the Profound Pair's on ice chemistry and if they're breaking any NHL rules.

"It won't and we aren't," Dean answers, as succinct as possible, leaving no room for question.

The bloggers want to know how long Dean and Castiel have been seeing each other and if they have a ship name (???).

"It's all very new and what do you mean exactly by ship name?" Cas asks, honestly confused at the mention of sea vessels.

The NHL representatives want to know how the You Can Play Project fits into the scheme of things, and so Naomi takes over the junket, sharing information about the upcoming teen hockey camp that Dean and Cas will be putting on for young gay hockey players and their allies, which will be scheduled as soon as the team know the Bruins' playoff status. 

"We are so proud to be affiliated with Mister Novak, Mister Winchester and the Bruins hockey club. The Bruins organization has made it their mission to welcome sports fans and players of all orientations, and, with these two at the helm of the campaign, we are proud to sponsor the You Can Play Bruins Hockey Camp this summer, taking place right here in Boston, with Mister Novak and Winchester coaching young boys and girls in not only the art of hockey, but also on how to navigate the world of sports as a gay player," Naomi finishes. 

"Bisexual," Dean mumbles. 

Cas looks over at him, eyes wide. 

"I'm, uh, bisexual? I date both men and women. It's kind of a thing." 

The room breaks out into nervous laughter, and Cas can't help himself. He grabs Dean's hand under the table and squeezes, nodding his head and smiling out into the crowd. 

"Um, yes. Of course," Naomi sputters, trying her best not to glare daggers into the back of Dean's head. Castiel won't deny that there is a stigma against bisexuals, even in the gay community (especially in the gay community, he amends to himself), but he refuses to allow anyone, especially this stranger, to make Dean feel bad for not being all the way one thing or the other. That's not how sexuality works, and she should know it.

"Dean and I are very pleased to be working with You Can Play, and we are excited to welcome young people of all sexualities, genders and orientations to our summer hockey camp. Gay, straight and allies, bisexual, transgender and more. We know what it's like to feel like outsiders." Cas feels Dean squeeze his hand, this time, and he smiles at the gesture. "And we want to make sure that the LGBTQA community knows that the Bruins supports you." He looks at Dean. "Us."

The rest of the press scrum goes as to be expected, but eventually, Dean and Castiel get out of there, dignity and relationship mostly still intact. That only lasts as long as the walk to the locker rooms, where the team is waiting to chirp them before the game, questions a bit more colorful then those at the presser, and a lot more invasive. 

"No, we are not going to tell you who bottoms!" Dean whines for the third time to one of their teammates that Cas is expressedly ignoring. He can't help but wonder the same thing, as he tries and fails to erase the image of Dean splayed out underneath him, naked, wet, and writhing. 

"Come on, fellas. We've got a game to win!" Cas hollers, finally, and they head out onto the ice, ready to play the Stars, ready to win, and ready to navigate this strange, new experience together. 

 

_**To Be Continued...** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The YouCanPlayProject.org is a real thing. Check it out, what they're doing is amazing. Obviously, Naomi does not run the organization.


	5. A Good Old-Fashioned Hockey Scrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for homophobic language.

**Hockey Hotties' Instagram Post Will Make Your Jaw Drop!**

_posted 10:45am, February 7, 2016_

_Becky Rosen/ BuzzFeed.com_  

Boston Bruins Captain, Castiel Novak, and recent trade to the team, Dean Winchester posted a pretty intimate photo of the two of them canoodling after a big home win last night, and the hockey world wants to know, what the _puck_ is going on between these two?? We know Castiel came out as gay to the League in 2010, but no word if Dean is his new boo. But seriously, has someone been reading my dream journal? I swear, these two are going to _Bruin_ me…

_____________________

**Bruins Team Leaders Come Out in Support of You Can Play**

_posted 4pm, February 7, 2016_

_by Ed Zeddmore/NHL.com_

Castiel Novak (Captain/Left Wing) and Dean Winchester (Center) of the Boston Bruins (28-19-6) announced their support of the You Can Play Project today in a press conference held this afternoon with Coach Chuck Shurley, Team GM Joshua Eden and Founder of You Can Play, Naomi Sinclair. According to The You Can Play Project website,

“You Can Play works to ensure safety and inclusion for all who participate in sports, including LGBT athletes, coaches and fans. You Can Play believes sports teams should focus on the athlete’s skills, work ethic, and competitive spirit, not their sexual orientation and/or gender identity” ([ http://youcanplayproject.org ](http://youcanplayproject.org)).

Novak and Winchester revealed plans to host a hockey camp this summer for LGBTQA youth at Boston Garden. Says Castiel Novak of the endeavor, "Dean and I are very pleased to be working with You Can Play, and we are excited to welcome young people of all sexualities, genders and orientations to our summer hockey camp. Gay, straight and allies, bisexual, transgender and more. We know what it's like to feel like outsiders."

The Profound Pair, as Bruins fans call these two frontliners, posted an image on social media after their Thursday evening win against the Montreal Canadiens alluding to a relationship between the two and then admitted at the You Can Play press conference this morning, that they were in fact seeing one another.

According to National Hockey League bylaws, there are no explicit rules against players dating and the pair promised fans the relationship would not affect on-ice chemistry. The Bruins have vaulted back into the playoff picture, having won five of their past seven games. They are battling with the Detroit Red Wings and the Tampa Bay Lightning for second place in the Atlantic Division, each team eight points behind the Florida Panthers for first.

_____________________

**Winchester and Novak, Profound Butt Buddies**

_posted 1:30am, February 8, 2016_

_by M. Etta Tron/ElucidatedHockey.com_

Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester, “The Profound Pair” running the front line of the Boston Bruins hockey club since Winchester was traded to the team Summer 2015, finally admitted the reason they’ve got such great chemistry is because they have indeed seen each other naked, and that’s outside of the locker room, folks.

Novak is as well know for his wicked slap shot as he is for coming out as the first gay hockey player in the NHL in 2010. Winchester recently was traded to the Bruins after rumors that he and Canucks GM Rufus Turner had a falling out over an affair between the former Canucks Center and Mrs. Cassie Turner.

Now that Novak and Winchester have admitted to being in a relationship, what will this mean for the Bruins hockey club? Apparently, the team accepts that their two star players are high sticking in the bedroom and have no plans to reprimand the Captain or his cohort. They have even announced a hockey camp for gay teens, to be held at the Garden after playoff standings are announced. My question is, do social justice causes belong in hockey? Shouldn’t we be more focused on the game then championing for a minority cause in a league that has never explicitly stated any sort of homophobia against said issue? Just because Castiel Novak is gay, doesn’t mean he should be allowed any special rights or privileges. It seems, in this humble blogger’s opinion, that the NHL needs to take a closer look into this potential scandal, if they want to keep us true fans in our seats and spending our money at their games.

_____________________

***

Dean sighs and closes his laptop a little more forcefully than he usually does. Cas closes his book and watches as Dean stands up from Cas’ desk and stretches, the thin, grey sweatpants barely hanging onto his hips. He absolutely does not stare at the space of skin peeking out from between the pants line and the bottom of Dean’s shirt, and Cas’ heart definitely does not skip a stupid beat when he notices said shirt is actually one of his old Bruins tees, with a “C” on the front, “Novak” and a number four on the back. He stares steadily at Dean, who is grumbling under his breath, and eventually pats the couch next to him, indicating Dean should sit down.

Next to him, Dean is silently brooding, and so Castiel is quiet, too, fingering the worn pages of his book and trying not to look pushy. If he’s learned anything about his friend over the past few months, it’s that asking Dean Winchester “what’s wrong” or “can we talk” leads to a definite shut out that can last for an undetermined amount of time and is only fixed with copious amounts of freshly baked pie. Better that Dean come around in his own time, revealing his thoughts at his own pace, so that he feels comfortable, safe and secure in the space that they’ve made here, with each other.

Cas would wait an eternity for Dean.

“It’s those goddamn reporters, if you can even call ‘em that,” Dean spits out. “Profound Butt Buddies? Seriously?” Dean complains, tucking his feet underneath himself as he scoots closer to Cas on the couch. “What the fuck, man? We work hard for our wins and this guy…” Dean sighs, leaning back into Cas, and so, a consumate Captain and fellow mother hen, takes the oportunity to tuck an arm around Dean, who doesn’t seem to mind, just snuggles down deeper into the cushions and Cas’ shoulder. “M. Etta Tron, he squares all that away in a little box that says “gay hockey player” and forgets about all the fucking points you’ve racked up for this club since you were traded! You got the fucking Art Ross Trophy last year, for fuck’s sake.”

Castiel promises himself he’s not going to laugh, although Profound Butt Buddies is actually a little funny.

“Since when have you let the media get to you?” He asks instead, tracing random symmetrical symbols into the soft cotton of Dean’s, _his_ , t-shirt.

“They hardly even mention me. It’s all “Cas is gay,” blah blah blah. The NHL should do something, blah,” Dean answers.

“All of it?” Cas asks, genuinely curious.

“Well, no,” Dean admits. “The League website is pretty focused on the You Can Play hockey camp and BuzzFeed wants to see us kiss.” He chuckles and turns to peck Castiel on the lips. Before he can move away, though, Cas catches Dean’s lip with his teeth, worries it a little, and then licks into his mouth. Dean hums his satisfaction and runs his fingers through Castiel’s hair before pulling back and gazing at him with dark eyes. “Mmmm, they can’t have that one. That one’s all ours,” Dean murmurs.

“Dean, reporters are going to talk. That’s their job. What we’ve got to do is keep winning games and show them that we’re just two players who care about our team, the game and each other,” Cas replies. “The team supports us. Coach supports us. Eden supports us. The League is going to have to get with the program and so is the media,” he finishes. Dean doesn’t respond, but he does rest his head on Cas’ shoulder, which Cas takes as a win.  

“I remember the bullshit you had to deal with when you came out. I noticed it. You. Even back then,” Dean admits, voice small. Castiel remembers, too. The rumours, the lies and the hype all the way through his first training camp in America, when he was first drafted in 2010 to the Detroit Red Wings and then, two years later, when he was traded to the Bruins on a ten year contract. It took him three years in Boston to prove himself and shake the stigma from his name. Three years of scoring, fighting, working his ass off, before he felt the true support of the fans and franchise behind him--before they recognized that his talent superseded any issues with sexual preference that they might have. Cas loves his team, his town and he’s gonna get them the Cup, soon. He knows it. Cas also knows that Boston is going to be there to see he and Dean through this interim period, as they work out this thing between them in the public eye.

“Boston is a good town, Dean. It’s going to be good to us, for us. I promise.”

“Ya think?”

“I know.”

Dean sighs and Castiel can feel the tension drain out of the shoulders that are tucked under his. They had won their game versus the Stars in overtime and the home crowd, even after the presser earlier that day, had come out in droves. The seats had been full of gold and black jerseys, and Castiel hadn’t missed the rainbow signs peppering the arena, declaring support from their LGBTQA fans. When he’d pointed them out to Dean, others on their team had noticed, so in warm-ups, they collectively raised their sticks to fans, thanking them in the only way they knew how, which is when Cas realized each member of his team had wrapped their sticks in Pride tape, the rainbow colors standing out against the stark white of the ice all evening. Even a few of the Stars players had used the rainbow tape, which Cas really hadn’t expected, but appreciated, just the same. The support of his teammates and the hockey community made Cas optimistic towards the future and the consequences of this very public decision because, honestly, it felt like coming out all over again. If Dean and Cas had to have their relationship in the public eye, under the extreme scrutiny of the National Hockey League, surrounded by the machismo typical within the sport, he felt that Boston and _his_ Bruins, the team that Cas had cultivated and worked with for the past three years, were who he and Dean were meant to make this journey with.

“I just want to play hockey you know? And be able to love who I want to love.” Cas hums his agreement, but Dean stiffens up underneath him and so Cas goes over in his head what Dean just said and, _oh_. Dean is silent underneath him, and Cas worries that he might be thinking about bolting, so he tugs him closer and nuzzles into his neck, marveling at the smell of Dean mingling with the familiar scent of his old t-shirt. At the gesture, Dean melts back into him and Cas is content to spend a moment attempting to figure out what exact spices Dean smells like before he responds to the admission.

“Is that bergamot?” he mumbles into Dean’s neck before adding, “I love you too, you know. You’re my best friend,” Cas says easily, and smiles when Dean moves up to kiss him, rubbing against the stubble Cas refuses to shave so close to playoffs. “We’re going to get through this, Dean. Together.”

“I believe you,” Dean sighs into Cas’ mouth before he pushes them back onto the plush couch.

***

They have a day off before the team hops on a plane to head to Toronto, so Dean and Cas make the most of it by staying holed up indoors, and turning off their phones, basically lying in bed all day and avoiding everyone they know. Come time for their early morning flight to Canada, Cas has convinced Dean (with multiple blow jobs) to delete the Hockey Talk app off his tablet and to stop trolling his own Twitter mentions, if only to keep them both from going crazy from the media frenzy. Coach warns them that Canadian Press is going to be all over Dean because he's a Canadian citizen who traded up from minors in Toronto during the 2008 drafts and had a brief stint as a Maple Leaf rookie.

“Dude, it was one year,” Dean reminds Gabriel as he and the boys play a round of Super Smash Bros on their handhelds.

“Doesn't matter, Dean-o,” Gabe chirps.

“I can't believe you played for the Toronto Maple Leafs, man.” Kevin scoffs. “They suck,” he adds thoughtfully and Cas is sitting a few rows behind them with Zeke, so he can only imagine the eye roll that accompanies Dean's self-suffering sigh.

“I played less than ten hours the entire year and they traded me to the Coyotes the very next season! I also played for a year with the Ottawa Senators, a year with the Calgary Flames, a year in Minnesota and two back in Vancouver, since you seem to care so much,” Dean insists. There is a muffled scuffle from the seats and then he hears Dean speaking through a mouthful of what Cas can only assume is Gabriel’s stash of jelly babies.

“I've been all over, guys, but Boston feels more like home than any of those places ever did,” Dean admits to the _oohs_ and _awws_ of their teammates. Cas can't help but grin at the seat tray in front of him.

At Zeke’s questioning eyebrow raise, Cas mouths, “Dean,” since Zeke has his headphones in and can't hear him anyway. The goalie smiles and nods in response, returning back to the movie on his laptop without a word and Cas is glad, not for the first time, that he tends to always get along with his goalies best, no matter what team he's on. Zeke’s new to the Bruins, but he's also Russian, and though they've never played in the NHL together, they did play at the 2014 Olympics in Sochi for team Russia. They didn't start out as friends, but Cas went out of his way to get to know Zeke, because he has a huge amount of respect for goalies and also, because, like Zeke, Sochi had been Cas’ first time at the Olympic games. He hadn't been invited to Vancouver in 2010, but four years later, he had apparently proven himself worthy of a spot on the Russian team, and even though Cas didn't (still doesn't) agree with Russian politics, he accepted the spot with grace and humility, determined to remain a positive representation for young, Russian hockey players and play his best for the team. They hadn't won a medal, which was disappointing in a visceral way, but when Coach Shurley had mentioned that they were planning to acquire Goldov from the KHL before the 2015 trade deadline, Cas promised to take the young player under his wing if and when he became a Bruin.

“Casha?” Zeke whispers a few moments later, pulling his headphones out of his ears.

“Yes?” Cas answers back in Russian. No one else on the team understands them when they speak their native language, save his cousin Gabriel and Dean on rare occasions, who has taken it upon himself to learn a bit, mostly curse words and directional phrases.

“Do you love this man?” Zeke asks, curious and sincere.

“Yes.”

“Will it hurt your hockey?”

Castiel steals a glance through the oversized seats to where his cousin Gabriel, Kevin, Dean and Benny sit, Nintendo DS’s in hand, laughing and enjoying the down time before the evening’s game. Being with Dean, it might distract from the game at first --they both want their stories to be about hockey, not their sex lives--but they also seem to agree that the potential is there, and it’s worth fighting for.

“No,” Cas answers, softly. “This is going to make us better.”

What no one expects is the sight that greets them when they arrive at Air Canada Centre later that morning.

"Dude, are they _all_ here for you?" Kevin asks Cas and Dean as their team bus winds it's way up the arena driveway. There are usually a few fans in gold jerseys supporting them at away games all across the Northern Hemisphere, but Castiel has never seen such a press scrum in his life, not even back in 2010 when he was the talk of the NHL as a young, gay, hockey-playing Russian rebel. There are dozens of reporters, fans and even a few protesters with signs waiting for them at the guest gate. Dean looks absolutely pale as Coach Shurley and Pamela Barnes slide into the seats next to them on the charter and go over a few talking points for them to present to the press after they exit the bus.

"Just tell them you're excited to be back in Canada, that you're looking forward to the You Can Play hockey camp, and that the team is looking good for tonight's game." Pamela offers the advice and a bottle of red Gatorade. Dean takes both gratefully and Cas can't help but place a reassuring hand on his shoulder before they step off into the crowd of people. 

It's a good old-fashioned hockey press scrum, and by the look on Dean's face and the sinking feeling in Castiel's chest, not one they are in any way prepared for. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all my commenters from chapter 3, who encouraged me to keep writing this fic and who i blatantly plagiarize in this chapter. i love you all, you goons.
> 
> Pride Tape is a real thing! Check out the Kickstarter here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/252024940/pride-tape-hockey-tape-to-support-young-lgbtq-play


	6. Against the Boards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for homophobic slurs

Soon after Cas moved to America and came out publicly in 2010, he met a man named Brian Burke. Burke had been, at the time, GM to the Toronto Maple Leafs. Burke’s son, Brendan, was killed in a car accident only weeks before Castiel arrived in Detroit, but Burke had still taken the time to reach out and develop a sort of mentorship with Cas. He publicly championed Castiel, not only as a hero of the LGBTQ community, but as a beacon of hope for potential gay hockey players across the world. Burke remained an advocate for the LGBTQ community even after the Leafs had started to show wear at his social activism. They fired him in 2013, but he and Castiel remain friends. Castiel hears from Burke at least twice a year, when the older man checks in with him before trade season to make sure the club is treating him right. He tries to convince Cas to break contract and come play for him in Calgary, and Cas tries to get his to come to Boston to work for their organization, usually over steaks. Castiel knows he’s lucky, to have someone in the hockey higher-ups, who supports him and his decision to come out. Cas also knows that Dean has never had a support system outside of his brother Sam, Uncle Bobby, and the handful of friends he’s opened up to, and Castiel can understand that, too.

In Russia, Castiel initially faced legal persecution for his sexual preferences. He returned in 2014, but only after the Bruins legal team secured his safe travel to, from and throughout Russia and only after his mother begged him to follow his heart. Castiel ached for a win in Sochi during the Olympics but he was shunned by his team from everything but ice play, which fucked with his head and he can admit now that his game suffered. He looks back on his time in Sochi as tense and disappointing, but also as an experience which opened his eyes to his own misjudgements. For four years, he had dreamed of returning to Russia, perhaps foolishly hoping his hero status would carry over to his homeland, which it decidedly did not. In Sochi, Cas longed for Boston. He missed his mother and sisters, the team he and his organization had only started to rebuild. It pained Cas to realize that Russia no longer felt like home to him. When he returned to North America, it had been to a city and a team that cared for him. It had been to the Art Ross Trophy and a captaincy offered to him only a season later. Eventually, it had been to Dean. Castiel knows how lucky he’s been in Boston and he doesn't regret signing a contract that makes him a one-city player. In Toronto, he vows to never take his city for granted again.

Somewhere in the bowels of the Air Canada Centre, Cas and Dean and a handful of Bruins administrators stand on a makeshift podium in fairly large room alongside Maple Leafs GM, Zachariah Anderson and members of his team. Castiel has suffered through his share of press conferences, but the energy of this particular room makes Castiel’s stomach turn. They are going to be broadcast live, and none of them expected to give a press conference before they even got to the visitor’s locker room.

“Dean, Dean!”

A hand goes up in the front and Pamela points at the reporter, who’s badge has a blue Maple leaf on it, a name and organization that is too small to read from where Cas is sitting, and probably writes for some Canadian hockey blog.

“Dean, hi, Amanda from the Toronto Hockey Times. How does it feel to be back in Canada after such a tumultuous ending to your time in Vancouver has led to a whirlwind romance with Boston?”

It’s the first question of the day and Cas can’t help but wince. It’s inwardly, because he’s a professional, but he lets his eyes drift to where Dean is sitting on the other side of Coach Shurley and instantly regrets it. Dean looks stumped, as if they both hadn’t been coached fifteen minutes prior on how to sidestep any reference to their relationship. To be fair, Amanda had phrased the question just this side of inappropriate, but Dean doesn’t seem to get the memo that she is referring to his success in the town versus Castiel’s bedroom. Cas sees coming a mile away the answer the poor girl is going to receive before Pamela can even get a word in edgewise.

“Look, lady, my romantic life has nothing to do with me playing the game here today, and I’d appreciate it if you’d focus on the hockey and leave my sex life out of the discussion,” Dean huffs, red-faced and obviously agitated.

Amanda, to her credit, remains unphased by Dean’s outburst, only blinking a few times before slowly stating, “I meant your chemistry with the Boston Bruins hockey club, Mr. Winchester. No disrespect,” she adds, raising her eyebrows before busying herself with the cell phone voice recorder in her hands to get a better soundbite.

Instead of mollifying him, the answer seems to incense Dean. He slams his water bottle onto the table and glowers at Pamela, who calmly smiles, encouraging him to continue. For a tense moment, Cas is sure Dean will stand up, storm out, yell, maybe toss a table. Instead, he sighs.

“I...I'm sorry. I, uh, misunderstood.” He tries to smile at the reporter, but it looks more like a grimace. “Canada is awesome. I love coming home and especially to a town where I've played and lived. Toronto is a great team, but Boston is home now and I'm excited to see what we can accomplish together. I've got great chemistry with the guys on the team and we're going to continue to play hard so that we can make it to the playoffs.”

Both Amanda and Pamela look satisfied, and Cas takes a moment to take a sip of water and smile into his glass before looking back up to the room.

“Castiel, Josh here from Bruins Daily Beat, how's it going?”

“Great to see you in Canada, Josh,” Cas replies, nodding for Josh to continue.

“The Leafs’ defense has proven to be tough enough to withstand the offensive tactics of the best teams in the League. With their last win over the Chicago Blackhawks, a team who shut you out when you met in January, how do you plan on pushing through to the crease?”

The questions are strictly hockey after that, which Cas answers with stock replies that focus on the strength of the team and their desire to keep momentum in the upcoming playoff run. Media training gets them through the rest of the scrum, but Dean keeps his answers short, and remains withdrawn and quiet throughout. After, he disappears while Pamela has Cas working on sound bites for the team vlog and they don’t see each other until right before warmups, when Dean magically reappears in the locker room to hear Coach Shurley’s inspiring speech about each game counting in the run to the playoffs. They are trying to keep their relationship out of the locker room and away from prying eyes, and so Castiel does not approach Dean to ask if he’s okay of if they need to talk. He does place a hand on Dean’s shoulder as they head out onto the ice. It is a brief touch, but the contact causes Dean to look up. He gives Cas a half smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and Cas’ heart drops.

“Good game today, yeah?” Dean says.

“Yes. Good game.” Cas takes a breath. “Are you…?”

“I’m fine, Cas. Let’s just focus on the game.”

“Of course. Yeah,” Castiel stutters as Dean abruptly walks away. “Focus on the game,” he mutters under his breath and then turns to face his team and prepare to walk out onto the ice.

***

The Bruins are down four to two and the crowd is uncharacteristically vicious (for Canadians) and Castiel can’t help but wonder if he and Dean’s extracurricular activities have anything to do with the vibe they’re getting in this particular barn. The thing is, Castiel has been hearing slurs on the ice his entire career in the NHL, but Dean seems to have a pretty thin skin today, and has been in the sin bin twice for fighting. The first infraction sets the tone for the match, when Dean gets a game-high six hits on the Leafs Captain during the first ten of the game and goes off for a five-minute major penalty. The second, once again against Leafs Captain Fergus Crowley, is instigated by the team leader during the second period, who doesn’t even drop his gloves when Dean comes after him, which means Dean gets two for roughing while Crowley taunts their bench. The Leafs score on the power play both times, and by the time they get to the final intermission, Cas is pissed.

“He called you a faggot and asked me which one of us is the girl, Cas, then he said something about dick tucking and I lost it.” Dean explains to Cas during the second intermission. “Fuck that shit, okay? This is fucking hockey and we fucking fight,” he spits out.

“We fight clean, Dean, we don’t punch the captain of the other team for chirping us, okay? Both times you that lost your temper we lost a goal, you realize that, don’t you?” Cas asks, livid. “You don’t need to defend my honor, Dean. I’ve been hearing this shit my entire career, so get the fuck over it. You’re a center, not a goddamn goon. I’m your Captain, and I need you to skate fast, snipe the puck, and do your job so that we can do ours and win,” Cas exclaims, and the locker room is quiet behind him, their teammates doing a terrible job of not staring and/or pretending not to eavesdrop.  

Dean freezes at Cas’ outburst, eyes narrowing as a dark blush rises from underneath his away jersey up his neck as his features smooth out and his mouth turns up in a sneer.

“Yeah, Cap. I’m over it,” Dean says tonelessly, bending down to lace up his skates, effectively ending their conversation. Cas turns without another word and slides into his stall next to Zeke, who gives him a sympathetic look before mumbling to him in Russian.

“Are you alright?”

“Da,” Cas replies. He glances over at Dean, who has his back turned to them, ignoring them as he changes into a fresh sweater. “I’m worried the pressure is going to be too much for him,” he says in Russian. “I’m worried that he doesn’t trust me or this team.”

“You know him better than I do, Casha,” Zeke concedes, adjusting his pads and taking a sip from his green water bottle. “He has been in many cities on many teams over the years. Perhaps he does not know how to stop running,” Zeke murmurs before placing the goalie helmet back on his head just in time for the two minute warning. Cas nods in concession and they bump helmets before lining up to step back onto the ice for the third period.

“I need you to fucking pay attention out there, Gabriel!” Coach Shurley yells at the defenseman. They’re in the third period, still down by two and headed to another power play courtesy of a high sticking call against Benny. They’ve got four minutes on the clock, and even though team morale is low, Cas can’t seem to get it together to do anything about it. “Protect the crease and help Zeke keep that net clear, you hear me?” Shurley adds before Gabriel grunts, crawling over the boards for the start of his shift. “And what the fuck, offense?” Coach Shurley glares at them, and even though the five foot seven, former right wing is a small man in stature compared to most of the guys on the team, he carries an air of frightening inevitability, as if he’s fully prepared for the end of the world and doesn’t plan on sharing his apocalyptic secrets or hoards of toilet paper with his fuck up of a team unless they score. He focuses his attention at Dean and Cas, who are sitting the power play out while Kevin, Gabriel, Victor and Balthazar try to keep the Leafs from scoring on them again.

“Coach, I’ve been trying my hardest out there,” Dean starts.

“No you haven’t, Winchester, you’ve been playing stupid hockey all night, and you’re fucking benched for the rest of the game. Hopefully by the time we get to Ottawa, you’ll have your shit straight,” Shurley says, turning his attention to Castiel.

“You’re Captain now, Novak. Handle your players.”

“Yes, sir,” Castiel replies, avoiding Dean’s gaze by keeping his eyes on the ice. The Bruins get the penalty kill and successfully keep the Leafs out of their net during their third power play, so Cas hops over the boards when Gabriel heads back toward the bench, determined to narrow the point margin. The last two minutes are intense, and even though Castiel manages to get a one timer to the back of the net before the buzzer, it isn’t enough for them to win. The Maple Leafs beat them four to three and Dean won’t look him or any of their teammates in the eye as the leave the ice.

The locker room is quiet in the wake of their loss. Kevin is surrounded by reporters at his stall, where he answers questions about his goal that night, and their 4-game road trip throughout Eastern Canada. Per Pamela’s instructions, neither Castiel nor Dean are fielding post-game interviews that night, which gives Cas a chance to over-analyze what he wants to say to Dean when they get back to the hotel. Cas makes it a point to touch base with every man on his team before they leave Toronto’s barn, including Dean, who replies to his invitation to the post-game team building video game session in Gabe’s room with a clipped, _“Sure,”_ and nothing more. He knows that his teammates can feel the tension between them, and it’s so much like the energy they had before they started dating, back when neither of them knew how the other man felt, that it makes Cas want to scream or cry or shake Dean until he’ll talk to him and tell him what’s wrong.

Back at the hotel, most of the guys crowd into Gabe and Zeke’s room to play Mario Kart and gorge on room service steaks.

**Tuesday, 6:18pm Cas: I’m heading over to Gabe’s room. Can we talk?**

Cas shows up a little bit late, after spending an inordinate amount of time getting himself pumped enough to step out the door and not retire in his pajamas before 8pm. He tries not to notice that it’s been over an hour since he text Dean. Even when they were angry with each other, Dean always text him back. The silence is unnerving.

**Tuesday, 8:43pm Cas: We’re on our third round of Mario Kart and the food just got here. I thought you were coming over…?**

No one asks him Dean’s whereabouts, which Cas appreciates. At some point, Benny announces to the room that Dean is feeling under the weather and is sleeping it off in their room. The boys gives him his space, without leaving him out, and no one asks if he’s okay, they just continue handing him beers and keep him in the game rotation. After the steaks arrive, Cas places his phone in his jacket pocket and doesn’t look at it again until they’ve finished round five and Kevin is declared the winner and it’s time to get back to their respective rooms. When he does finally check his messages, there isn’t a response from Dean and Castiel suddenly feels irrationally upset, seething with unspoken anger at Dean’s childish silence. They all lost the game, not just Dean. He isn’t allowed to take it harder than everyone else. He isn’t allowed to blame himself and ignore Castiel. Cas didn’t do anything wrong and he deserves some answers. It isn’t until Castiel is standing at the door of Dean and Benny’s room, that he realizes he should probably have asked if he could come by, that perhaps Dean really is sick and that maybe, just maybe, Cas is overstepping a few boundaries by pounding on Dean’s hotel room door only a few minutes before midnight. Benny is still at Kevin’s, so at least Cas knows he’s only making a fool of himself in front of one person, albeit the one who he really, really doesn’t want to hate him.

“Benny, so help me, if you’re too wasted to unlock the goddamn door yourself…” Dean’s rant stops abruptly when he sees Castiel on the other side of the door. He doesn’t look sick, in fact, he doesn’t even look like he was sleeping, and Castiel feels anger wash over him in a rush. The television is on in the background and he can clearly see Dean’s laptop and remnants of dinner on the coffee table in the room. Even the bed’s still made.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Cas. Why are you ignoring me? I thought you were coming over. I know today was hard, but you can’t just hold it all in, you’ve got to talk to somebody.” The words rush out of him as he starts to step into the room, but Dean doesn’t move aside to let him in, and so Cas is stuck awkwardly positioned half in the door and half in the hallway. “Dean?”

“Cas, I’m tired, man. Can we do this tomorrow?”

“What? No, I mean, I came over here to...talk,” Cas finishes lamely. “Why are you ignoring me?” He asks again.

“I don’t…” Dean looks down and shifts from foot to bare foot. “I don’t know if we should do this anymore, Cas, I just...I think I made a terrible mistake.”

It is then that Cas’ entire world falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for keeping up with this little fic of mine! I am so sorry this took so long to post. I've had a kid and husband in the ER in the span of two weeks, plus it's the end of the term and I'm swamped with grading, presentations, and writing for everyone else but YOU GUYS! I have an outline for at least 3 more chapters, so I hope you'll stick with me. Again, sorry this is late and short. I wanted to get something out sooner rather than later, so there's a bit of a cliffhanger...sorry not sorry!!


	7. Spin-O-Rama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *mention/description of a panic attack*
> 
> thanks for being patient with this chapter! i wrote most of it by hand and then had to type it up, add some words and edit before posting. i really like writing by hand, but it makes the workload doubled, although i think the text turned out quite well. enjoy!

Cas barely hears the click of Dean’s door behind him as he walks down the deserted hallway. His brain is foggy, probably from the beer and the late hour, and he has never been more glad to have a single room--a luxury afforded him as Captain--than he is now. The keycard beeps first, then flashes green and Cas opens the door, taking huge, gulps of air as he pushes into the empty suite. He hasn’t had a panic attack in years, but he recognizes the symptoms. Vertigo hits him, and he slides down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, head resting on his hands, eyes squeezed shut even in the darkness of the room. He takes deep, shuddering breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth until he can feel his heartbeat slowing down. After a few moments, he lifts his head. The air is cold on his face where the tracks of his tears have dried. He hadn’t even realized he was crying.

“Shit,” Cas breathes out into the darkness. Anger wells up in him as he imagines Dean, sitting comfortably in his hotel room, probably watching Netflix on his laptop or getting ready for bed, blissfully unaware that just down the hall Cas feels as if he is drowning in his own emotions. It isn’t fair. He didn’t do anything wrong. Did he? Besides trust that Dean knew what he wanted and move way too fast and basically sell their relationship to the You Can Play organization, bringing the spotlight back on his sexuality after years of trying to make the focus of his personal story be about hockey...

“Shit,” Cas repeats, voice hoarse as he stands to his feet and quickly sheds his clothes. His nightly rituals--brushing his teeth, checking emails on his phone--are abandoned in favor of crawling under the covers immediately and staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours. All of his doubts and fears--about coming out to the League, revealing his personal relationships to the media and his vulnerability and subsequent rejection--crowd his brain as he goes over and over what happened and what he wants to say to Dean once they actually speak again. Changing patterns of light and shadow dance across the walls, a calming constant that eventually soothes Cas and causes his eyelids to sag, exhaustion finally taking over as he falls into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, the team has an early flight into Ottawa with a game that evening and Castiel is on autopilot as he packs his gear and game day suits. He avoids Dean at breakfast and again on the ride to the airport. It’s easy to slide into the seat next to Kevin and start talking about the power play and special teams as the rest of the guys stuffs their faces with fresh fruit and various meat products from the buffet. Dean and Cas never sit together on the plane because Cas always sits with the goalie, but when Dean heads to the back of the plane while Zeke, Cas and Gabriel are already sitting in the front, his cousin raising an eyebrow at him, observant (nosy) as always. Cas, like the functioning adult he is, pretends he doesn’t notice and buries his face in the book he’s been trying to finish for a month, until Gabriel turns away with a heavy sigh.

Cas thinks he’s avoided confrontation until Zeke gets up to go to the bathroom and Gabe slides into his seat. He snatches the book out of Cas’ hands and holds out an unopened box of Red Vines, which Cas takes with an annoyed huff.

“Why do you always have candy?” Cas asks in Russian, tearing into the box and stuffing a piece of licorice into his mouth before his cousin can answer.

“Because it’s sweet, like me. Don’t try and distract me, Casha,” Gabriel replies. “Why are mom and dad fighting? Are you two getting a divorce?”

Cas contemplates lying, but he knows Gabe will not relent until he’s satisfied.

“I’m not sure what’s going on,” Cas answers, still speaking in Russian. “I think that’s the problem,” he sighs. “Something happened in Toronto that Dean’s not telling me and last night he was ignoring me and I may have confronted him about it after one too many beers and...and…” Cas tries not to get worked up, keeping his voice even and low, so as not to disturb the men dozing around him.

“Oh, Casha,” Gabriel coos. His voice is soft. It reminds Castiel of when they were children and Castiel would trip over his too-large skates on the fresh water pond with terrible ice back in Chelyabinsk, Gabriel always there to offer a hand and help him to his feet. “Love always did make you miserable.”

Castiel nods, not trusting himself to speak. He’s saved by Zeke, who returns to their row and shoves at Gabriel, cursing at him in Russian.

“Out of my seat, _pridurok_.”

“Fuck you, Zeke,” Gabe responds cheerfully in English before standing to his feet and turning back to Castiel. “Talk to him, Casha,” he murmurs, switching back to Russian. Zeke pushes Gabe out of the way and knocks his shoulder against Cas’ as he situates himself back into his spot, pulling out his laptop and headphones and putting on a cheesy Russian soap opera that he knows Castiel (not so) secretly loves. He doesn’t ask Castiel about the conversation, only hands him an earbud and mutters under his breath something about dramatic Russian love triangles before settling in for the rest of the short flight. They spend the next forty minutes belying the woes of poor Nastya; she has to choose between Prince Misha and Baron Volodya and both guys are dicks. By the time they land in Ottawa, Cas and Zeke have both agreed that Nastya should just take over the kingdom on her own, without a man by her side. A feminist coup is just what this Russian imperial 19th century telenovela needs, honestly. It’s an old argument, but a comfortable one that somehow makes Cas feel better than he has since arriving in Canada.  

When they exit the plane, Dean shuffles up behind Castiel and Zeke, hands shoved in his pockets, face ruddy, either from the cold or because he’s nervous, Cas can’t tell.

“Cas…”

Ezekiel falls back to allow the pair a private moment and Castiel gives his friend a grateful smile that falls from his face when he turns to face Dean. Cas glares at him with what he hopes is an air of impatience and not desperation, motioning for him to speak.

“Can we talk back at the hotel?”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” Cas snaps before sighing, defeated. He doesn’t want to do this, but he knows they have to. “Yes. Fine. We have two hours before practice. Let’s meet at the front of the hotel in thirty.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come up…?”

“Thirty minutes. We can walk and talk,” Cas reiterates in his Captain voice, leaving no room for discussion.

“Okay,” Dean concedes. “See you then.”

They separate, Dean speeding up to catch Benny and Cas slowing down to meet Zeke’s pace. His is flanked by both his cousin and Ezekiel, who crowd him onto the bus and distract him with hockey talk for long enough that he definitely is not thinking about Dean the entire ride to the hotel. Cas drags his gear up to the room and then heads back down to the lobby, ducking out the side door when he sees a few fans standing around looking for autograph opportunities. He texts Dean his location and then starts to walk east, the opposite direction of the group in Bruins jerseys, towards a park he noticed on the drive in. Cas is already wearing his game day suit, dark beanie covering his hair, matching scarf wrapped around his neck. The sun is shining in Ottawa, but it’s cold, with the biggest snowstorm of the year right around the corner, according to the weather woman on the television in the lobby. Dean shows up at the empty park right on time, bundled in his woolen coat and a Bruins beanie that matches Castiel’s. Cas has been thinking, formulating a game plan and trying to figure out what to say when they finally got time alone, but that all goes out the window when the pair are standing next to each other in the cold, Canadian air.

“Why did you even bother to post that picture?” Cas blurts out. He sees a distinct wince of pain run across Dean’s face before he schools it blank and Cas shudders at the thought that Dean is giving him his media face. “You caused all this commotion only to run in the other direction the moment things got difficult.” Dean doesn’t say anything and Cas barrels on, glad that the sidewalks are empty. It feels as if all of Ottawa has hunkered down for the coming storm, Dean and Cas the only two idiots out in the cold. “Why did you let me fuck you?” he whispers and Dean snaps his head up at that, cheeks burning pink as he stutters,

“What, no. I wanted you to. It’s not like that, Cas, please,” Dean begs. “I’m impulsive…”

Cas groans.

“Not, no, come on,” he stutters. “I care about you.”

“Then what is it?” Cas asks, tentative and small.

Dean blanches. “I fucked Crowley.”

Cas sucks in a breath. Spin-o-rama out of nowhere.

“When I was a Leaf,” Dean continues. “Zachariah knows. Crowley called me last night. He threatened to tell the press about he and I. He also asked to come by and fuck me,” Dean spits out between clenched teeth. “So yeah, I wasn’t in the mood for video games and pizza and I really wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated by my drunk Captain at midnight.”

And Cas understands, he really does. He shouldn’t have knocked on Dean’s door last night, he should have taken his silence as a sign (a really passive aggressive sign) that Dean didn’t want to talk to him last night. But the sharp, visceral pain that had come with Dean’s rejection isn’t easy to shake. Also, Crowley is an asshole.

“Crowley’s an asshole.”

“I know.”

“So are you.”

“I don’t disagree.”

Dean goes to sit down on the cold metal benches flanking the grassline of the park and Castiel follows slowly. Neither one of them speak for a while, just sit in each other’s space, taking in the darkening winter sky above. Cas wonders if they’re going to break up. He wonders if they’ll be able to play together if they do and what the team is going to say, what Coach is going to say. He wonders...

“Why didn’t you tell me before Toronto?” Cas asks, finally, breaking the silence. He doesn’t look at Dean but keeps his eyes firmly on the ground, examining the gravel and his shoes very carefully until he hears Dean sigh and mutter,

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

Cas considers that for a moment before responding, choosing his words carefully, conscious that English is not his first language and he wants to be clear enough to leave no room for doubt in Dean’s mind.

“Being too scared or ashamed to discuss your sexual history is not acceptable behavior for one’s partner to engage in,” Cas enunciates. “I’ve been honest with you our entire friendship and I expect the same consideration from you.”

Dean turns to defend himself but Cas presses on. He knows that he has to say this now, or else he’ll lose his nerve and it’s important to him that Dean understand why he’s doing this.

“I am your friend and teammate. I need you to have my back on and off the ice. I want to trust you, Dean, but right now,” he stops and considers this man, whom he has known only a short time, not even as long as he’s known Zeke or Benny. From the moment he met Dean, Cas had felt as if they shared a bond that was so different that what he shares the others. The fact is, Cas cares about Dean. Who is he kidding? He’s in love with him, but now, seeing Dean’s face drop as he takes in what Castiel’s saying, he isn’t sure that love is enough. “I don’t trust you and I think we need some space before things get more out of hand than they already are.” He rushes that last bit before he can change his mind and when he looks at Dean, he wants to take it back, to be selfish. He wants so much to hoard the good times and ignore the bad, but this isn’t just about him. Castiel is Captain now, and he has to end this before it crashes and burns, the effects reverberating through the ranks of the team, shaking them to their core.

“It’ll be better for the team?” Dean’s voice lilts at the end as if he’s still unsure and Cas is so glad that he doesn’t have to say it outloud, to admit how important hockey and the team that he’s helped build is to him. The sacrifices he’s made to get where he is now continue to push him to make the most out of his Captaincy and his time in Boston. He wants this team to succeed and if he’s worried about a relationship with a teammate who isn’t even sure...Cas needs to be better than that. He’s committed to this team, which means he is committed to Dean, too. Just, perhaps, not in the way he thought. “Are we going to tell the guys?” Dean asks, finally and, oh. Right. 

After discussing the locker room rumour mill and what Dean calls Castiel’s _knitting circle_ (Russian hockey players are terrible gossips), the pair part amicably. They decide to keep their relationship status quiet (hindsight is 20/20) and to let the guys figure things out as time passes. In reality, neither one of them want to come out and end it, not when they have to remain friends and teammates and faces of the team for the media. Castiel figures he’s allowed to be just a little selfish when it comes to Dean, he doesn’t want to give up everything that they’ve built, not yet. Back at the hotel, Dean heads to the breakfast bar where Kevin and Benny are having omelets with the coaching staff and Cas hangs back outside, signing autographs for the few diehards waiting in the cold with game pucks and five by seven glossies of him and the team. Cas can’t help it when his thoughts drift to this new and strange territory that he and Dean are embarking on. It isn’t ideal, and it hurts like hell, but it’s better this way. Even though Castiel’s heart aches and his eyes burn; he knows, theoretically, it’s better.

***

The Canada trip goes as to be expected, which is to say, the Leafs game turns out to be the exception and the Bruins sweep through the Atlantic division, pushing into a playoffs position with a wide enough berth between them and Tampa Bay that they’re hoping to get a little “x” by their team name in the standings by the time they reach 70 games. They may have lost in Toronto, but they shut out Ottawa 4-0 and beat Montreal in 3-on-3 overtime thanks to Dean’s wicked slapshot. Back in Boston, they get a four day break, but Coach doesn’t let them escape intensive conditioning and regular morning skates. The month of March sneaks past Castiel and even though they aren’t spending much time together off the ice, he and Dean seem...okay. They’re linemates and damn good ones, at that. The theatrics surrounding Dean’s coming out have waned, and soon enough the media loses interest in discussing their sex life and starts focusing on the race to the playoffs and the Bruins’ ranking in the Atlantic division. Boston is steadily rising in the playoff standings as the season comes to an end and suddenly, they have less than a dozen games left when Castiel realizes that everyone thinks that he and Dean are still dating.

_Oh._

The thing is, after Ottawa, Dean gives Cas the space he asks for. Which means, the little touches and Netflix couch dates end, but he never stops being Cas’ friend. In fact, he treats Castiel with a careful consideration that he didn’t have before Toronto. They go to team dinners after games and it isn’t weird, not really, not unless Cas takes into consideration that every time he’s near Dean, his skin feels like it’s on fire and he can’t concentrate on anything else. He tries not to think about Dean naked, Dean splayed out for him, Dean panting and pretty underneath him, but most days, Cas fails miserably. The only time he feels normal around Dean is when they are on the ice. When they’re skating, the Profound Pair still know where the other one is without looking, they still make filthy goals and get assists for each other and they keep winning games. Cas can see why people might be under the wrong impression. Hockey is a sport full of thinly veiled homoeroticism and man hugs and no one expects Dean and Cas to be any more or any less than they always have been. There is no bad blood between them, and an outside observer might ascertain that Dean and Cas simply don’t engage in public affection out of consideration to their own privacy, and really, that observer wouldn’t be wrong. Dean has always appreciated his personal space and, while hockey players have a casual way of invading said space, he’s not really overly affectionate, never has been, at least not outside of on-ice cellies. When Dean does touch Castiel, it is deliberate. He will clasp Cas’ shoulder in greeting when they meet before practice, knock knees with him at a team meeting, wink from behind the reporters when Cas is taking questions at his stall in the locker room. It’s maddening and thrilling and Castiel wonders whether or not Dean realizes exactly what he does to Cas.

Probably not.

Castiel has hope that the Dad’s trip for the last leg of the season will give him a chance to get his head on straight. Gabriel’s dad, Cas’ uncle Sergei, is making the trip, and everyone is looking forward to sharing the last homestand in Boston with their families. Cas knows Dean is excited to get a visit from his brother, Sam, and Cas cannot wait to spend time with uncle Seryozha, who practically raised Castiel and his sisters when their father passed away. Although Sergei and Alexander Novak had both been staunch Russian nationalists, Seryozha had supported Castiel when he left the Russian KHL to join the North American NHL, and when Castiel revealed his homosexuality to the world, Seryozha had made sure Mama, Anna and Hannah had safe passage from Chelyabinsk to Boston within twenty-four hours of the announcement. Seryozha is just another example of the support system Castiel is lucky enough to have, and perhaps he can help Castiel get some perspective in terms of his career versus his love life. Cas always understood that having both while in the League would be next to impossible, and he really should have known better than to think something serious could ever come out of the chemistry he shares with Dean Winchester. So, Cas sets his boundaries and Dean never steps over them, not ever. It’s everything that Castiel asked for and nothing that he ever wanted and as the month comes to an end and playoff spots are clinched, Cas begins to doubt his own veracity. Unfortunately, Dean does not.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \----russian disclaimer----
> 
> all my knowledge of russian hockey players comes from obsessing over evgeni malkin and reading lots of fanfic. don't take me seriously at all.
> 
> pridurok=moron/douchebag/asshole (or something close to that, i dunno, i use google translate, so if it's wrong, i'm sorry!!)
> 
> seryozha=a diminutive of sergei and BTW casha is totally not a diminutive of castiel, but eh? fanfic? 
> 
> i really wanted to translate that entire convo between gabe and cas into russian. i didn't because i figured i would just screw it up BUUUT if you speak russian and are willing to translate into english the phonetic versions of cyrillic words and want to help, hit me up!)
> 
> \----end of russian disclaimer----
> 
> also--
> 
> dad's week is a thing they do in hockey (also, mom's week) but it usually is in jan/feb, but my TARDIS wasn't handy and for purposes of getting the fam time in here and also having the months pass, i moved dad's week to the end of the season. again, FANFIC.
> 
> for my canadian friends--i am sorry, but why are the canadian NHL teams so BAD?? is it because the US teams steal all your best players and pay them to come play in random cities like dallas and pittsburgh? survey says, yes. i love you, your adorkable PM and i'm an edmonton oilers fan 5eva! don't hate me cuz i'm chirping you a bit in this :) i'm totally cheering for team canada in worlds (and will get a team canada jersey with that amazing new logo ASAP).


	8. A Natural Hat Trick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, readers, i know this took longer than usual, but i wanted to get it right for you all. I am in a pretty up-and-down hockey kind of mood today because my penguins won their second round last night but the stars play game 7 tonight and i've literally bitten off all my nails today in anticipation. This fic kept me sane, as i wait and see what the hockey gods have in store for my texas babies!!

Dean knows he’s not imagining it when, in practice, Zeke blocks his shots and glares at him from the net a little bit harder than usual and with a fierceness he usually saves for guys who _aren’t_ on his team. Only Zeke, Big Ben and Sweetie Novak, Cas’ cousin, seem to recognize any shift in Dean and Castiel’s relationship; the other guys remain blissfully unaware. Still, Zeke is six-foot something and played in the Kontinental Hockey League for five years before signing up to play North American hockey. He’s known Cas since Sochi and he seems to hate Dean, plus, Zeke is definitely high ranking in the Russian Knitting Circle and Dean really doesn't want to be on his own goalie’s bad side.

“Get shit together, WInchester,” Zeke chirps at him after snatching Dean’s one timer out of the air and depositing it back on the ice. “Better to figure out problem now than to wait til big moment,” he smirks. It could mean anything from “focus on your technique” to “stop fucking around with my bestie’s heart” and Dean doesn’t really feel like sticking around to find out which. He nods in acknowledgement while skating backward to the end of the line to wait his turn, where Benny stares at him mournfully, as if he heard what Zeke had said at the net and completely agrees.

“What?” Dean hisses at him. “I thought I had him.”

“Come on now, brother. You never really had him,” Benny drawls before skating away to run drills with Sweetie and _doesn’t that just chaffe?_ Big Ben, is, of course, right, and Dean can’t help but allow his gaze to drift over to Cas, who is practicing puck handling with Chuck and their offense coach, Lilith, head bent low as he twists the puck between the bars laid out on the ice, sweet hands flipping the hard rubber back and forth with practiced ease. It doesn’t really matter if Benny means Cas or if he means Zeke, Dean knows he never had a chance either way. He also knows, as reckless as posting that Instagram picture had been (and basically declaring his queerness to the entire League after years of careful avoidance), when he looks at Cas, Dean can’t bring himself to regret coming out. Not when, over the past months, he’s met more supportive fans and players than he ever thought existed within the NHL. Dean has a lot of regrets, and as it turns out, revealing his sexuality isn’t one of them. What he does regret is blowing things between he and Cas. Dean feels the loss with a visceral longing that causes him to act as if nothing is wrong, when, in fact, being around Cas makes him feel as if his skin is pulled too tightly over his skeleton, uncomfortable and forced. Dean can’t figure out how to get past the carefully constructed wall that Cas has built up around himself or even if he deserves to.

So, he does what he always does, which is to say, steals little touches, blatantly stares at Cas during practice when he thinks no one is watching, and avoids Sweetie’s judgemental glare as he skates past Castiel and offers, “Sick hands, Cas.”

Cas ducks his head and shrugs. “Thanks, Dean.”

Dean sighs, sniping a puck at Zeke without warning, only to be shut out with a smug half-smile and dismissed with a hand wave.

“Back to minors, Winchester,” Gandalf drones, dangling Dean’s puck in his glove hand.

Instead of responding, Dean picks up another puck with his stick, fakes to the left, then right, and slaps it in between Zeke’s knees while the goalie is still trying to track the black rubber with his eyes.

“I think he’s ready for the Show,” Gabe chirps at Zeke, who shakes his head and huffs under his breath,

“Sneaky beaut.”

A burst of laughter comes from his left and Dean turns to see Castiel watching them, hands and chin resting on his stick, smile broad, eyes sparkling. He is flushed from exertion and the cold and looks beautiful. Before Dean can look away, Cas catches his eye, gaze turning into something more thoughtful as the grin on his face melts away. It sends a rush of want through Dean, followed immediately by intense shame for his actions over the past few weeks. For all his bravado, Dean knows that pushing Cas away has got to be one of the stupidest things he’s ever done, and, for the life of him, he can’t figure out how to fix it. His brother, Sam, of course, has a few ideas, one of them being to embarrass Dean regularly during the Bruins Dad’s trip. He seems determined to force Dean and Cas to spend time together outside of the rink and so Dean isn’t surprised when, as optional skate winds down and Coach Shurley suggests they take the rest of the off day to enjoy time with their families, Sam insists the Novaks and Winchesters have lunch together. He is sitting with Gabriel’s dad, Sergei, and Castiel’s sister, Hannah, at the bench when he waves Dean over.

“What is it, Sasquatch?” Dean asks before hopping over the boards and flopping down next to his brother to unlace his skates. He’s sweaty and tired, but all of that melts away in lieu of the fact that he gets to spend a few days with his brother in Boston for their homestand. Even though it’s called “Dad’s Week” by the Bruins organization, Dean’s happy to see he isn’t the only person who invited someone other than his father, who passed away over a decade before. Cas has his sister, Kevin brought his mom, and Zeke has a friend from Russia who played with him in the KHL.  

“Gabriel told me about this Russian place that Seryozha liked the last time he was here and I was hoping we could go with them and try it out.” Sam rushes through the sentence without stopping and sneaks a look at Hannah that has Dean wary and fearing a wicked alliance. Sam raises his eyebrows, silently willing her to speak.

“ _Da_ , Dean,” Hannah begins, voice droll. “Please do join us for lunch at Vika’s. The _pelmeni_ are nothing like mama’s, but Seryozha does not complain. He will eat anything.”

Sergei knows the temperament of his niece and enough English to elbow Hannah in her side and roll his eyes before speaking to Dean. “Vika’s _blini_ best in Boston, no tell mama. You like sweets?” He asks and Dean can’t help but smile. He and Gabriel are so much alike.

Dean sneaks a quick look at Castiel. He doesn’t want to make Cas feel uncomfortable. They have boundaries now, or something like boundaries, which cause him to take pause in order to gauge his Captain’s mood on the subject of lunch with the Winchesters. Cas gives him a small eyebrow raise that Dean takes to mean he and his brother haven’t wore out their welcome with the Novaks and Dean lets go of a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

“Yes, Sergei. Thank you for the invitation. We would be happy to eat with you,” Dean responds slowly, careful to enunciate and use words that Sergei probably knows. Gabriel’s father smiles wide and then turns his attention to Zeke, who has wandered over to Castiel, whispering conspiratorially and probably sharing secrets of the Knitting Circle.  

 _“Moi droog, budesh' est' s nami?”_  Sergei asks Zeke.

 _“Spasiba Dyadya. Eta bylo slishkom dolga, tak kak ya bylo s druz’yami iz doma,”_ Zeke responds before glaring at Dean and really? That’s not fair. Dean doesn’t even know what they’re talking about right now. He really hopes it isn’t him. 

 _“Budet etot mudak est’ s nami?”_ Zeke adds. 

Sergei laughs and carefully does not look at Dean.

_“Da.”_

“Oh, come on guys, I recognize _mudak_ ,” Dean absolutely does not whine. “Zeke always calls Gabe that, so it can’t be anything good.”

“Dean,” Sam starts and Dean can hear the reprimand in his little brother’s voice, in just that one word and fights the urge to roll his eyes, on principle. “Go get showered so we can go. I’m starved.”  

In the car, Dean does his best impression of _a dude with nothing to talk about_ by putting the restaurant info into his GPS, then tapping his hands on the steering wheel in time with the music while singing as loud as he can. Sam lets it slide for about four minutes, or, the length of the the Journey song playing on the radio, before he turns to his brother and heaves an exaggerated sigh.

“What are you going to do about Castiel?”

 _Shit_.

“Not right now Sammy, I’m not in the mood.”

Another long-suffering sigh comes from the passenger seat of the Impala and when Dean chances a look at his brother, Sam is staring at him with a furrowed brow, sad, puppy dog eyes zeroed in on Dean.

“What? We’re okay. It just wasn’t gonna work out, man. We’re still playing well together,” Dean hedges.

“De-ean,” Sam sighs at him and Dean really, really does not want to do this before he has to face Cas’ family at lunch.

“It’s bad enough that you’re forcing me to hang out with him and his family even though we clearly broke up,” Dean begins.

“First of all, if you didn’t want to you, you could have said something. Second, it’s not clear to anyone what’s going on with you two.”

Dean fidgets with the GPS and turns the radio up just a little because he really likes the song and not because he’s trying to get his brother to drop the subject, obviously.

“Dean, come on man, you seemed so happy before. Now it’s all awkward glances when one of you thinks the other isn’t looking and I know you’ve got a ton of baggage you think Cas isn’t going to want to unpack…”

“He won’t!”

“But,” Sam continues as if Dean hadn’t just interrupted him. “It’s his choice to make and you went and made it for him.”

“Hey. He was the one who said it would be better for the team.”

“After you ditched him in Toronto, told him you couldn’t do the relationship thing anymore and left him to have…” Sam stops so abruptly that Dean has to turn and look at him while they wait for the light to change from red to green.

“What?” Dean asks. “Have what?”

“Did you know that Cas had a panic attack that night in Toronto after the game? After he came to you?”

Dean feels his heart lurch violently in his chest. He caused Cas to have a panic attack? Tears prick the corners of Dean’s eyes that he quickly blinks away as he imagines Cas alone, suffering because Dean was too weak and scared to admit his flaws. So scared, in fact, that he refuses to fight for anything. His team, his boyfriend, himself.

 _Fuck_.

“I didn’t know,” Dean mumbles, switching the radio off. “I just...Sam. I can’t be good for him. What do I have to offer someone like Cas? He deserves someone who isn’t scared to come out.”

“You already came out, Dean, plus you have the hockey clinic with You Can Play...”

Dean barrels on as if Sam hadn’t even spoken. “Someone who won’t lie to him, someone who will fight to stick around, Sammy, and that’s not me. I don’t even know how long I’ll be in Boston. I’ve only got a two-year contract! He deserves better.”  

“That’s his choice to make, Dean. Not yours.”

“So what...I mean, what can I even do? He doesn’t want me back. He won’t...he can’t forgive me.” Dean doesn’t say what they both know he’s thinking. That Dean doesn’t deserve to be forgiven. That he doesn’t think he’s worthy of the happiness being with Castiel can bring. That the only thing Dean’s ever done is run away.

“You gotta give him the benefit of the doubt, man. Cas cares about you. You ever thought that maybe he doesn’t think you care about him?”

They pull into the small parking lot behind Vika’s and Dean parks next to Gabriel’s SUV, turns the ignition off and sits, staring out the front window at the people walking along Cambridge Street. The April weather is warm enough that the locals walk around in shorts and t-shirts, reveling in the seventy degrees and sunshine so rare for Spring in the Northeast. Dean doesn’t want to be anyone’s charity case and he doesn’t want Castiel to stay with him because he feels sorry for him. What happened to them in Toronto, that was only the tip of the iceberg, as far as Dean’s concerned. He kept Crowley a secret because he was ashamed and there are at least a dozen (okay, two dozen) others that fall under the category of “secret-one-night-stand-names-not-required” kind of hook ups that Dean really doesn’t want to examine. Admit. Whatever.

At lunch, Dean lets the sound of Russian, the sight of family and friends, along with the smell of good food overtake his senses. He tries not to think about his conversation with Sam on the ride over, but it’s difficult to forget when Castiel won’t even look him in the eye, positioning himself across from Dean and then practically turning his entire body away so that they don’t have to speak to one another. Dean does his best to keep up with the stilted conversation his brother, Hannah and Sergei are having, giving Cas his space and not trying to engage in the lively half-Russian and half-English discussion he, Zeke and Gabriel are having.

“No way we are letting Sasha Ovechkin beat our Casha!” Gabriel announces at over desert, to the whooping agreement of everyone at the table. The season is almost over and Castiel is the second highest scorer in the league (behind Alexander Ovechkin, Castiel’s Olympic teammate and President of the Russian Knitting Circle), which, apparently, doesn’t sit right with his cousin. Over vodka and _pelmeni_ , Gabriel has decided that they need to help their Captain get the Art Ross for the second year in a row. Cas, of course, demures quietly, always wary of attention and praise.

“Sasha has worked hard this year, but so have we,” Cas concedes. “If I do get more points than him, it will be because of our team and hard work.”

The table _oohs_ and _aahs_ at the admission, but Dean doesn’t say anything. That is, until Zeke turns to him and asks, “Winchester. You help Casha beat Ovechkin in points, _da_?” Dean feels the eyes of everyone at the table on him and heat rises from underneath the Bruins tee he tossed on in the locker room. Of course he wants to help Cas win, but it’s more complicated than the people in this room even understand. Cas doesn’t want anything from Dean. Dean fucked up something so incredibly huge by running away from Cas, and no one even knows it because Dean’s too much of a coward to own up to his mistakes and Cas is too much of a gentleman to call him on it.  A noncommittal, media answer lies on the tip of Dean’s tongue, until he glances up and catches Castiel’s eyes. They have a week of hockey left in the regular season and Cas is neck and neck with Ovechkin for points. This is something he can do for Cas and for the team and maybe, just maybe, Dean can think outside of himself for a good cause. For Cas.

“How far behind him are you, anyway?” Dean asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

Cas sputters around his ice water. “He’s eight points ahead of me and we have four games left. They have three,” he answers. “But you don’t have to…”

“I’m in.”

Gabriel and Sam hoot and holler their approval, while Zeke sits back and offers Dean a thoughtful nod.

“Okay Winchester. We will see if you are good for it, yes?”

“Yeah,” Dean replies, distracted by the small, surprised smile Cas has turned on him. Zeke doesn’t press the issue, just watches the pair with shrewd, goalie eyes, as if he is tracking a puck across 200 feet of open ice.

***

_Dave: Welcome back to the Sports Hub, 98.5 WBZ-AM, your place for all Boston sports. Gravedigger Dave here along with long time Bruins announcer, Bob Coffee._

_Bob: It’s a hockey night in Boston, Dave, and this evening at the Garden, we’ve got the Bruins playing their last game of the season against the Detroit Red Wings. With only seven minutes of play left, it’s two to zero, Bruins, and we’re in the third period, gearing up for what will hopefully be a win and then a long post season of playoff hockey._

_Dave: Let’s hope so, Bob. The Bruins nabbed a wildcard spot after what was a delectable delight of hockey in the month of March. With the help of trade boy wonder, Dean Winchester, the Russian Wizard, goalie Gandalf Goldov and rookie right wing, Kevin “The Prophet” Tran, Castiel Novak and the Boston Bruins are not only going to the playoffs for the first time since the Captain took up his mantle, but Novak looks to get his first hat trick of the season in the last game of the year._

_Bob: It is a day of firsts for a team of firsts, Dave. This group has really come together to face injury, adversity, and media disasters in order to get their team to the playoffs. The Profound Pair and their line is on the ice for the faceoff_ _._

_Dave: Winchester’s percentages have risen exponentially since finding a home with the Bruins. He is facing Luke Glendening, Red Wings Center, who is 29th in the League for faceoff wins._

_Bob: Winchester wins the faceoff and the puck goes straight to Lafitte who immediately takes it to the boards and swings it around to Gabriel Novak. Gabriel is tied up with Abdelkader who shoots it out across the ice to Mike Green, who holds it in for a line change._

_Dave: Looks like Datsyuk’s line is coming on the ice, Bob. Blashill has been playing him with Winchester this entire game. Datsyuk hasn’t given Winchester a lot of room to maneuver on the ice, but Castiel Novak has certainly taken up the call and looks to get a hat trick and that final two points that would put him in the lead for the Art Ross again this year._

_Bob: Datsyuk gains the puck and is skating against the Boston defense straight down the middle. The puck is stolen by Tran, who sneaks up behind him and forces a turnaround in neutral ice. Tran chips the puck across to Winchester, who holds it and locates Captain Castiel Novak across the ice._

_Dave: This line has been putting in work tonight. Castiel has two goals, as you mentioned, Bob, and is looking for that hat trick in order to beat Alexander Ovechkin of the Washington Capitals to the title of top goal scorer in the NHL for the 2015-2016 season. The Prophet has an assist tonight and Winchester has two assists, making this the only line with points in the last game of the season for both these teams._

_Bob: Castiel Novak rifles the puck at Howard, who blocks it with his stick and it is picked up by Defenseman Ericsson, who slides it over to Kronwall. Kronwall lifts the puck and trickles it across to Zetterberg. He slaps and...misfires! Zetterberg misses the puck completely and can not follow through on the rebound. Lafitte tangles with Larkin in the corner, dumps the puck down and...this will be icing on the Bruins._

_Dave: The Bruins are having a hard time getting out of their zone, Bob. The faceoff will be to the left of their goalie and they cannot yet make a line change._

_Bob: Victor Hendrickson steps up to the dot for the faceoff against Larkin. Larkin swipes and misses and the puck goes to Novak who swats it back to Hendrickson and both Boston and Detroit go for a line change._

_Dave: Looks like Castiel Novak and Winchester are waving off the line change Bob, which means Tran is staying on the ice, too._

_Bob: The first line has been on the ice for three minutes and they must be tired, Dave._

_Dave: Cas is looking for that hattie, Bob._

_Bob: Yes, he is. Hendrickson shuffles the puck to plucky Boston D-man, Garth Fitzgerald, who presses Quincy up against the boards. Quincy gets his stick on it but here comes Dean Winchester, to drag it out from under him and Winchester is off to the races. Red Wing defense did not see Castiel in that corner and the Profound Pair are in an odd-man rush, two against one, with Winchester on Novak’s right skating down center ice passed Dekeyser. It’s Winchester to Novak and back again to Winchester. He settles the bouncing puck and... fakes a slapper! Passes it to Novak and...goal! Right in the five-hole between Howard’s knees, Dave, he never saw it coming! It’s three to zero, Bruins and here come the hats to celebrate Bruins Captain Novak’s first hat trick of the regular season and the final two points that will clench the Art Ross Trophy for the Left Winger. What a night for hockey in Boston!_

“Cas! Cas! You did it, man!” Dean yells, crashing into Castiel and wrapping his arms around the other man. Their teammates meet them near the Detroit net, jumping on the pile and joining the celly with Castiel right in the middle of the scrum.

“You beat Ovi! You got a hattie! You did it, cuz!” Gabriel is yelling over the screaming crowd and Castiel is flushed and grinning from ear-to-ear.

“I can’t believe...we did it!” Cas starts, eyes focused on the gold and black of his teammates. “You guys,” he points at his teammates. “You fucking guys are golden! Dean,” Cas turns and, for the first time since Toronto, looks at him, gaze full of pure joy, smile wide and unguarded. The goal horn is blaring over and over again as the announcers call out their names but all Dean can hear is the note of hope in Cas’ voice when he says Dean’s name.

_Bob: With the assist, we have Dean Winchester, first line Center for the Boston Bruins. With his third goal of the night and his first natural hat trick of the season, your Captain, Castiel Novak! With 103 points in the regular season, Novak will be the NHL's Art Ross Trophy winner for the second year in a row. Make some noise, Bruins Fans, it is a great day for this hockey club!_

The crowd roars. There are hats raining down on and all around them and it is in that moment that Cas places his gloved hand on Dean’s helmet and wraps the other around Dean’s shoulders to drag him in for a hug.

“Thank you,” Cas murmurs against his ear and Dean can’t in any way help the shiver that runs down his spine as Cas drags his hand across his shoulder and pats his ass with unadulterated affection before skating off to pick up a Bruins snapback off the ice with his stick and heading back to the bench.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my Hockey Trash Sister (you know who you are) for the Russian translation. I would much rather sound like a dirty, inappropriate hockey player when I curse in Russian than geno's grandmother. 
> 
> Translations: 
> 
> “Moi droog, budesh' est' s nami?” (My friend, will you eat with us?)
> 
> “Spasiba Dyadya. Eta bylo slishkom dolga, tak kak ya bylo s druz’yami iz doma." (Thank you, uncle. It has been too long since I have been around friends from home.)
> 
> “Budet etot mudak est’ s nami?” (Will this asshole eat with us?)


	9. An Early Summer

When Dean slams into the boards during game two of the first round, he swears he can hear the bones in his wrist snap, crackle and pop him right onto IR for the rest of post-season. The team wins the first series against the Bolts in six games and Dean sits in the press box for the last one, wearing his best suit and a shit-eating grin as the Bruins slaughter Tampa Bay 6-2. It’s a lot harder to watch his teammates struggle through second round against the Capitals, who are having their best year of the decade, even if Cas did beat Ovechkin in points. The Bruins end up losing round two in seven, which is heartbreaking in itself, but even more so for Dean because he couldn’t be out there on the ice to support his team, not even for the handshake line. Dean blames himself--for falling funny, for skating to hard, turning too quick and essentially not contributing when his team needed him the most. Captain Cas, of course, doesn’t allow Dean, or any member of the team, to carry that burden alone. At the team barbeque, Cas makes sure to spend time talking to each player one-on-one, and when he gets to Dean, Cas reminds him that they would never have even made it to the playoffs if it weren’t for his hard work and commitment to the game. The assurance loosens something in him and Dean relaxes muscles he didn’t even know he’d been clenching. At the party, he moves through the small gathering with practiced ease, cracking jokes with Andrea, who is especially vulnerable to “Benny the Bear” jabs, and dancing to Brenton Wood with Victor’s daughter in Joshua Eden’s backyard garden well past sundown. When he leaves, it is back to his empty apartment to prepare for his summer back home, on Vancouver Island. That night, Dean only thinks about Castiel twice. The first is in the shower, remembering how Castiel pressed him against the warm, blue tiles and whispered promises against Dean’s skin, kissing him breathless. Dean thrusts into his own hand and imagines Cas on his knees, mouth hot and wet, hands strong on Dean’s thighs until he’s shaking with need and spilling onto himself. After he comes, his brain is blissfully quiet. The bed in his Boston apartment feels almost too soft, too big, but he drifts quickly. His last thought is of Cas’ sleep soft smile, willing him to a dreamless slumber.

Being back on the Island is as wonderful as it is weird. When he played for the Canucks, he lived with Sam near the University of British Columbia. In the off season, though, Dean returns to Vancouver Island, and the small town of Victoria, where he learned to play hockey at the ice ponds on Bobby’s property and kissed his first boy. Victoria hasn’t changed much since Dean was a kid, which is strange in itself. As much as Dean has traveled across North America, as many superstar athletes that he’s met, played with and against, none of that matters when he steps into the chilled air of The Roadhouse Ice Rink and Hockey School.

“Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Ellen hollers from behind the cash register as soon as she sees him. “How’s that wrist of yours, boy? Your captain still taking good care of you?” She asks, eyes twinkling.

“Fuck, Ellen, I know Sam told you,” Dean mumbles before hopping over the counter and pulling her into a fierce hug. “You already starting in on me, woman?” He asks as he snags a Nanaimo bar from the plate on her desk while Ellen rolls her eyes at him.

“Glad to see your appetite hasn’t left you in lieu of your recent heartbreak, son.”

“Shut up.”

“Mind your manners, Winchester, or I’ll bag skate ya, idjit!” Bobby growls. Dean whips around to see Bobby standing behind him, looking as surly as ever and he can’t help the grin that takes over his entire face.

“Aww, Bobby, I know you missed me while I was up at the Show, don’t try to hide it,” Dean coos as he moves closer to Bobby, arms spread wide open. “Give us a hug, old man,” he grins at Bobby, who ducks underneath Dean’s arms and knocks his ball cap off in his attempt to get away.

“Alright, alright, I missed ya, now will you please get your ass over to the zambo, we got goalies in less than thirty, Jo is already suited up for class and the ice is looking…”

“Slushy. I know! On it, chief,” Dean mock salutes Bobby and kisses Ellen one more time before heading down to where they keep the Zamboni. It’s a familiar routine to set up the Zambo and then roll onto the ice, the soothing hum underneath him reminding Dean of being sixteen with hopes of a professional career in hockey a dream just out of reach. He and Sam had spent their afternoons and evenings at the Roadhouse when they were kids--handing out hot cocoa to tired hockey moms, cleaning the locker rooms and disgusting rental gear, teaching puck handling to seven-year-olds on Sunday mornings--and none of it, in Dean’s estimation, would have been enough to repay what Ellen and Bobby had done for the two of them. While John Winchester simultaneously mourned the death of their mother and destroyed his liver, Dean and Sam fell into the familiar routine of school, hockey and nights at the Roadhouse with the Harvelle-Singers. They treated the Winchesters like family, the sons they never had. Jo was a little sister, a pest, and the best damn goalie Dean ever faced on the ice. Along with Sam, the Harvelle-Singers worked their asses off as hard as Dean did in order to get him to the Show. And so, even after (especially after) the draft and the different teams, the travel and all his stops and starts, Dean always returns to the Roadhouse because it’s the only home he’s ever known. The shit with the Canucks, the Bruins’ early summer, hell, even thoughts of Cas, slip away as Dean rolls quietly around the rink, waving at kids standing behind the boards with their moms, waiting for him to finish so that they, too, can have the crisp feel of the ice beneath their blades.

Dean smiles when he sees Jo skate onto the ice for her baby goalie class in full gear. The group cheers and smacks their sticks on the ice as she skates around them in a circle and Dean’s suddenly struck by how much he misses being at home with his family--how much he needs to feel useful here and how he absolutely cannot wait to show Cas around when he comes up to film their commercial for the upcoming You Can Play Summer Hockey Camp back in Boston. The Bruins admins decided (After Dean begged, finagle and bribed Pamela with promises of Ellen’s nanaimo bars) to film the videos and advertisements at the Roadhouse, where Dean offers a free, week-long hockey clinic for local girls and has since his first summer back from the majors, after hearing one too many times from Jo that there were little to no opportunities for female players in the leagues on Van Island. Since their first camp, over ten years ago, the Victoria Wildcats, under the watchful eye of the Harvelle-Singers, have become one of the premiere junior hockey teams in Canada, stats easily rivaling those of the top male junior teams across the provinces.

While Jo does most of the heavy-lifting while Dean’s off “galavanting in the majors” (her words) he feels like a proud papa bear when one of their American expats is asked to play on Team USA during the 2015 Women's IIHF World Cup. After the tournament, Alex Jones brings back a gold medal to Victoria, one of the selling points Dean uses on Pamela in order to convince her the Roadhouse hockey school is important enough to feature on the Bruins web page. The feel-good, hometown hero vibe is an angle that the club plans to showcase in the mini-documentary that will include appearances by Dean, Alex, the Harvelle-Singers and, eventually, Castiel. A behind-the-scenes look at the “Profound Pair” before their big You Can Play camp will be good television and great publicity. It will also give Dean a chance to spend some time with Castiel on his own turf, where it’s easier for him to parse out the shit in his head before it leaves his mouth. Hopefully, he can woo Castiel a bit, or at least buy him a beer and apologize for being a self-centered jackass for the last half of the season. Who is he kidding? Dean knows he’s been a self-centered jackass for the majority of his life.

“Dean!”

Sam’s voice carries over the noise of the kids hollering on the ice and Dean grins as he watches his brother stride across the rink to the corner where Dean is carefully parking the Zambo.

“Good to see you, man,” Sam offers, before pulling Dean into his arms for a bear hug. Dean squeezes back, because it’s been over a month since he’s seen Sam and he’s got enough self-awareness to admit that he’s missed his brother. They come together during the summers in Victoria and any time Sam can make it a game, he does, but professional hockey isn’t real easy on familial relationships.

“I missed you too, little brother. How’s Jess? Pass all your classes? When are you gonna get a haircut and apply to that Ivy League school up the street from my house? Dean gushes, before face-washing Sam just as if they were celebrating a celly on the ice.

“Harvard is really hard to get into, Dean. I can’t just transfer there,” Sam sputters, pulling away preemptively from a noogie before Dean can give it to him.

“There’s gotta be some diehard Bruins fan willing to write you a letter of rec for an autograph and some season tickets.”

“I can’t bribe my way into law school, dude.”

“Why not? You’ll be starting your life as a scumbag lawyer off right.”

“Dean, you know I’m going into human rights law? Defending the little guy? I know you’ve seen _Daredevil_ …besides,” Sam continues, a little softer but with no less conviction. “If you must know, I plan on applying after my internship with the LPC’s Summer Leadership Program. I’m not ready yet, but an internship in one of Trudeau’s provincial offices will definitely look good on my CV and my official application.”

Dean doesn’t have anything to say to that except, well, when did his little brother start rubbing elbows with Canadian politicians? Slapping Sam on the back, Dean ushers them out from behind the boards and over to the bar and grill, where they grab a couple of beers from the fridge and sit down to watch Jo teach her baby goalies class. The brothers sit in silence for a moment, enjoying the crisp air of the rink and a cold brew in hand as they have so many times before. Over the years, Dean and Sam have sat in the exact same spot to nurse hockey-inflicted wounds, celebrate graduations, mourn break ups, and discuss Dean’s coming out. The boys orbit the Roadhouse in a way that makes the small ice rink a comfortable center to their universe, a place they can always return to. A place that will always be home. It seems fitting that Dean open up about his sexuality in Victoria, to start a dialogue about hockey and tolerance in the place where he’s always felt accepted. To have Castiel join him here means everything, and Dean is counting on the atmosphere of Victoria to help contribute to the positive message he wants to portray on behalf of his hockey club, for any bisexual hockey players out there too scared to come out. _He_ made the decision to finally come out, and goddamn it, if he isn't actually proud of that fact. What he isn't proud of is how things ended with Cas. He hopes that, over time, they find their way back to one another, because he can’t imagine his life without Cas in it. He had run away as soon as the media pressure became too much and, instead of allowing impulsiveness to cause Dean to crash and burn (as it had so many times before), Cas remains his Captain, his friend and his biggest advocate in a League ready to see Dean fail. He’s never had a friend like that before and he doesn’t want to fuck it up. No. He wants to make it right.

“Eden offered me six.”

Sam drags his gaze away from the ice, where Jo is leading a group of girls, all of them in full goalie gear, through a full sequence of stretches meant to widen their reach in the net and keep flexibility high. His brow is furrowed, confused, and Dean can see the precise moment realization dawns on Sam’s face, which lights up with an ear-to-ear smile.

“Six years?” Sam asks.

“Six fucking years in the same fucking place. I can buy a house, if I want to,” Dean grins right back at Sam because this is the moment they’ve both been waiting for since Dan had been traded to the Bruins last summer. “I want to,” Dean adds, as if it needs to be said.

“Have you told Cas?”

Dean sucks in a breath. “I haven’t told anyone but you.”

“Dean.”

“I know.”

They let their gazes fall back onto the ice, where the girls are chirping one another even as they mimic Jo’s careful movements.

“I still love him,” Dean murmurs.

Sam hums thoughtfully. “I know.” They don’t say anything about it after that. Instead, they lace up their skates and glide onto the ice to shoot pucks with Jo and her eight-year-olds, until they are both starving and sweaty and exhausted from a hard day’s work.

***

 **Wednesday,** **2:30pm Cas : You don’t have to pick me up, Dean.**

**Wednesday, 2:40pm Dean: Dude. Come on. It’s my hometown. I’m picking you up.**

**Wednesday, 3:00pm Cas: I’m sure you have other obligations**

**Wednesday, 3:01pm Dean: STOP IT. I AM COMING TO GET YOU. SEND ME YOUR ITINIRARY(sp?) ALREADY MAN I NEED TO PLAN SOME SHIT**

**Wednesday, 3:14pm Cas: I emailed you. It’s an early flight though! I have a meeting with Pamela at 9am sharp so….**

**Wednesday, 3:16pm Cas: What kind of plans?**

**Wednesday, 3:20pm Dean: Got em!**

**Wednesday, 3:20pm Dean: You’ll just have to wait and see :)**

**Wednesday, 3:25pm Cas: …**

**Wednesday, 3:25pm Dean: I’m excited to show you around my hometown is all. No pressure.**

Castiel’s flight gets into Victoria International at seven in the morning and even though it is a hellish hour to wake up in the off season, Dean’s polite Canadian upbringing won’t allow him to let Cas take a cab from the airport, so he wakes at dawn and drives the short distance from his summer place to the nearest Starbucks, then to the airport, arriving in time to find Cas on the side of the road, duffel bag and gear in hand. Dean’s heart flips in his chest when Cas tosses his stuff in the backseat and slides into the Impala, rumpled and sleepy. He smells of filtered air and, stupidly, Dean thinks, of Boston.

Cas raises his eyebrows when Dean hands him the warm mug filled with hot tea that he brought from home and murmurs a soft, “You didn’t have to,” before taking a sip. “Mmmm, this is exactly how I like my tea, thank you, Dean,” Cas says as he glances over at Dean, eyes appraising. “I didn’t know you knew.”

“‘Course I know how you take your tea, Cas. What kind of b--friend would I be if I didn’t?” Dean cringes inwardly at his almost-slip, but Cas just hums and continues sipping the hot liquid while gazing out the window.

A wave of fresh nerves washes over Dean and he suddenly feels shy and a little uncertain about, well, everything that has to do with Castiel Novak. They’ve not spent any real time alone since the break up in Toronto; there has always been a teammate or family member with them as a buffer. Even now, though--with the low rumble of the Impala’s engine as the only noise between them--Dean finds he doesn’t feel uncomfortable per se, only curious about what will happen next between them. Energy thrums right underneath his skin as they turn onto the highway that will lead them to the Roadhouse and the obligations waiting there for them. If everything goes according to plan, maybe, just maybe, he can get Cas to give him another chance. At the very least, he hopes that their friendship can blossom and grow, even if they have to officially “break up” for the media at some point before Training Camp. The thought, though, doesn’t dampen Dean’s spirit as it has in the past. For now, it is a far away notion crowded out by a million tiny details that make up the rest of the shared summer ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are almost at the end of this little tale! Thank you so much for sticking with me, even through my sporadic updating. I think we have one more chapter to go and then--IT. IS. FINISHED.  
> Thanks for reading and for commenting. Your kudos and comments give me life!!  
> xoxo  
> C.D.


	10. Crashing the Net

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter but there will be an epilogue coming!!! 
> 
> Translations for Russian in the endnotes. Thanks to my sin sister, Christy, for help. Christy best )))))

Cas fakes right, swishes around his defensive shadow, and then he’s off to the races, flying toward the blue line down open ice. The puck bounces between his skates and his stick--Dean knows Cas is showing off a bit--as he glides past the goalie and circles behind the net. The keeper twists to the left, then to the right, spreading eagle across the blue ice, but it’s no use. Cas sneaks one in between the pad and the post and the horn goes off.

“Yeah!” Cas skates on one foot and fist pumps once, twice, before his teammates can reach him for the celly. The girls rally around him and Dean can’t help the grin that spreads across his face when Cas bends down to let the smallest of them facewash him, tap his helmet and pull him into a half-hug.

“That’s the way you do it, Coach!”

“You’re so fast!”

“No wonder he’s captain!”

Dean rolls his eyes in mock annoyance and blows his whistle. “Okay, okay, that’s enough showboating, Cap, we’ve got drills to run.” Twenty girls of varying ages and skills hustle to where Dean is standing near the benches, with Castiel at their backs to prevent stragglers. “That was some footwork though, wasn’t it, team?” He says to the crowd gathering in front of him.

The girls smack their sticks against the ice in agreement and Cas tilts his head in acknowledgement.

“Today we’re going to be working on breakaways, just like the one I just demonstrated for you,” Cas tells the group.

“Well, maybe not just like that,” Dean chuckles. “We’ll save that for the advanced class, eh?”

“Whatever you say, Coach,” Cas responds as he skates to the middle of his team with his clipboard to show them the drill he’s sketched out for them. The youngest one, Laurie--and she’s six, if Dean remembers correctly--can’t see the play board, and Cas takes a knee so that everyone gets a good look. Dean’s chest tightens inexplicably as he watches Cas work with the tiny forward and he takes a deep, shuddering breath. He vaguely hopes the camera doesn’t catch his cheeks reddening when Cas looks up to catch Dean staring and _winks_.

The coaches and kids run drills all afternoon with the cameras and Pamela watching their every move, but the girls take it all in stride. Dean, Jo, Alex, Bobby, Sam and Ellen, along with numerous parent volunteers and the Bruins staffers, have come together to make a truly unique experience for the campers, and girls from the Island and all over North America haven’t let a day go by without letting the staff know how much the program means to them. After nine years, the Dean Winchester Summer Hockey Camp for Girls runs like a well oiled Zamboni. Still, it’s the first time there have been professional hockey players _and_ cameras in the rink. The Bruins television crew film all day, every day, and, while Dean’s used to the cameras, it’s still a little weird to have everyone there, at his home rink. Pamela has worked hard to create an exceptional social media campaign for the Bruins hockey club by tightening up the Twitter account, managing (via her minions) SnapChat and Instagram accounts and of course, updating the famed Bruins YouTube channel and their monthly "Bruins Behind the Scenes" web show. Throughout the season, she also has the boys make short, themed videos in which a lucky pair of players participates in innate activities such as “Name that Tune” or “Would You Rather”, making fools out of themselves on a regular basis for the fans, who love it. Dean enjoys the team building stuff, and his positive attitude to the season’s endeavors is probably one of the reasons he was able to convince Pamela coming up to Van Island was even a good idea to begin with. After ten years in the game, being part of a team that believes in him and and what he can bring to the table is a nice change. Meaning, he’ll sing stupid karaoke versions of Disney songs or let a camera follow him around Victoria for a few days if it allows Dean to show support for his team _and_ get some publicity for Canada's women’s Junior Hockey League. Besides, Pamela’s media team is easy to deal with compared to what he's dealt with in the past and Dean knows how to non-answer any hockey question any reporters might throw at him during the off-season. Bobby and Ellen, not so much.

“Dean,” Ellen hisses, leaning over the boards and motioning to him.

“I’ll be right back, team. Let’s have you line up at the net and get started on those breakaways. Cas?”

“I got it.”

Dean offers up a grateful smile before skating past the two camera men stationed on the ice and the intern filming him in short bursts for SnapChat.

“What is it, Ellen?”

She motions her head toward a young woman with a camera strapped to her shoulder, a long microphone positioned a few feet above her head. The red light is blinking, and so Dean smiles apologetically at her.

“Can you give us a minute?”

“Not a problem, Mister Winchester,” the young woman replies, reaching to turn off the camera. The blinking red light abruptly stops and Ellen lets out a harrowed sigh.

“Boy, they are filming me making french fries!”

“Ellen, you knew this was part of the deal,” Dean chuckles, imagining Ellen attempting to put together a batch of Poutine with three camera people in the kitchen. She doesn’t even let Bobby in the room when she’s cooking, let alone three strangers. “We’re getting great publicity. _The Roadhouse_ is getting great publicity,” Dean adds, because he knows that will get to her, if nothing else. “Think of the scholarships we’ll have to give these girls at the end of the program, El.” Every year since it’s inception, the Dean Winchester Summer Hockey Camp for Girls has given away thousands of dollars in scholarships that go toward season-long hockey programs in a player's hometown. Usually, Dean has enough to scrape together a single, year-long tuition check, but this year, his teammates and the fans have donated enough cash to get each girl suited up with ice skates, sticks, tape, duffel bags, and a season-long scholarship.

Ellen squints her eyes at him, because of course she knows what he’s doing. It must work, because she doesn’t punch him. Instead, she wipes her hands on her apron and changes the subject.

“You bringing that boy to dinner tonight, Dean Winchester?”

“Ugh, yes, geez!” Dean throws his hands up in defeat already moving back to the ice.

“No cameras,” she warns.

“I know, Ellen, I know.” Dean waves over the camera woman. “We’re good to go, Jocelyn,” he says to her before turning back to Ellen. “I promised Pamela she could film me and Cas at any signing she wanted in Boston, just to keep her away from dinner tonight. Family only,” he reiterates to Ellen’s emphatic nod. “See you at seven.”

Dean skates right over to Castiel, who is perched next to Alex, both of them sitting on the top bar of the net, skated feet dangling in the air, watching the girls run drills.

“Cas, uh...hey, I,” Dean fumbles when he notices Alex raise an eyebrow at him.

“I’m gonna give you guys a minute,” she offers, leaping down onto the ice before Dean can say a word.

“Hello Dean.”

“You, uh, enjoying the last day at the Hockey Camp?” Dean asks. He wonders what Cas must think of his set up here, on Vancouver Island. The Roadhouse is so much smaller and older than any place they’ve ever worked together and Dean doesn’t know much about the rinks that Cas used to practice in back in Russia. He hopes this place might remind Cas of those smaller, more homely barns that they both grew up playing in, but he hasn’t heard many stories about Castiel’s life before the Bruins. Dean suddenly realizes that’s something he wants to remedy as soon as possible.

“Your home is lovely,” Cas answers and Dean can’t be sure if he means the rink or all of Vancouver Island. He finds it doesn’t necessarily matter, but he thinks it must be both. “Bobby and Ellen are kind to open the Roadhouse up to such chaos.” He hops off the net and looks up at Dean with a soft smile. “Thank you for inviting me, even after…” The sentence doesn’t need finishing, not really, but Dean can’t help himself.

“After I f--.” Dean’s eyes flicker to the group of seven year-olds working right behind them. “Fudged everything up between us in Toronto?”

Cas’ face registers shock before he lets out a soft snort.

“Sure. Yeah. That.”

“I should be thanking you, Cas.” He pauses. “And apologizing,” Dean adds, pulling his glove off and running a hand over his face. “You’ve been amazing this week...all season...and I’ve been an ass--butt. A jerk, I’ve been a complete jerk.”

Cas nods an aborted movement. “ _Da_ ,” he shrugs. “But we work well together. That’s what’s important, right? The Profound Pair? Boston’s One-Two Punch?”

“The team isn’t all I care about, Cas.”

Castiel clenches his jaw. “Dean, please, not here,” he grits out.

Dean sighs because, of course, Cas is right.  “Ellen’s invited you to dinner tonight. To welcome you to town and celebrate the end of camp. No cameras, just family. I’ll pick you up at 6:30? We can talk then?”

 _Da_ , yes, that’s fine,” Cas answers quickly, before turning to skate away. He stops a few feet from Dean before turning back, a thoughtful look on his face.

“You’re not at all who I expected you to be, when you walked into that locker room last summer.”

“In a good way or bad way?” Dean asks.

“Both. Neither. You’re _you_. Special. Maddening.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“You’re not a bad man, Dean.” Cas let’s his gaze travel around the rink, where groups of girls ages six to ten are decked out in complementary gear with the Bruins logo and Dean’s number 67 emblazoned on the shoulders. Many of the volunteers are young women who play with Jo or Charlie in the Women’s Junior Hockey League, who came up playing at the Roadhouse; who have been coming to Dean’s Summer Hockey Camp for the past nine years. Even on the last day of camp, the vibe in the room is upbeat and excited--everyone, the staff, volunteers, campers and parents, have given the week all that they had because Dean gives all of himself to the program every single time.

“You work hard for your team and your community and your family. I just wonder, what do you do for yourself? What do you have that’s just yours?” Cas doesn’t wait for an answer, just skates away toward his group of girls, who are taking turns at breakaways, flying down the ice and shooting the puck at Jo and her goalies.

***

**Friday, 4:42pm Kevin “The Prophet” Tran: I heard Cas is meeting the fam tonite.**

**Friday, 4:45pm Gabriel “Sweetie” Novak: it’s a small dinner to celebrate the end of camp don’t get your panties in a bunch it’s no big deal**

**Friday, 4:47pm Benny “Big Ben” Lafitte: ha! I’ll bet dean is at least two fingers deep in that fancy whiskey he likes so much**

**Friday, 4:55pm Castiel Novak: You know we can see these, right?**

**Friday, 5:15pm Dean Winchester: I hate all of you. Cas--OMW**

**Friday, 5:16pm Castiel Novak: ???**

**Friday, 5:16pm Dean Winchester: ON MY WAY**

**Friday, 5:20pm Kevin “The Prophet” Tran: AAAAHHH young love**

**Friday, 5:35pm Zeke “Gandalf” Goldov:** **это слишком рано для этого. Удачи каша**

 **Friday, 5:40pm Gabriel “Sweetie” Novak:** **по английски, пожалуйста.** **Sorry guys, gandalf doesn’t speak very good english this early in the morning also WE ARE IN RUSSIA RN**

**Friday, 5:45pm Kevin “The Prophet” Tran: How’s cas’ english in the morning, dean?**

**Friday, 6:00pm Dean Winchester: i’m muting all you assholes**

**Friday, 6:01pm Castiel Novak: agreed**

Summer nights in Victoria are warm and dry. The air smells familiar to Dean--like sea salt and the hydrangeas in Ellen’s garden that bloom well into July. A quick glance into the passenger seat next to him confirms that Castiel is still present, if not preternaturally quiet on the ride to dinner. He is dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved, button down shirt with a flamingo print that Dean would chirp him for if he didn’t already look so damned nervous. Although Castiel has been at the Roadhouse for the past two days, hockey camp has been a flurry of activity and there hasn’t been time for either Dean or Cas to face the inquisition that is the Harvelle-Singer clan. Tonight, though, Dean knows neither one of them is getting off the hook. Even though everyone pretty much understand the circumstances that led to them breaking up, Ellen, Sam and Jo have watched and waited for two days. Tonight is his family's chance to see who Castiel really is and vice versa. Dean finds that, while he's anxious to get to dinner, he isn't nervous. He can't say the same for Castiel, who is fidgeting in the seat next to him, tapping his knee, then the window sill, before finally turning to Dean and letting out a long sigh.

“Does your family plan on interrogating me about our private affairs?”

“Well, not super private,” Dean amends. “But basically, yes.”

“What did you tell them about me?”

“All good stuff!”

“And who’s going to be there?”

“Sam, Jess, Charlie, Jo, Bobby, Ellen, Alex, Jody and us,” Dean recites without looking at Castiel.

“That’s a lot, Dean.”

Of people. Pressure. Expectation. Pie, hopefully.

“They’re family,” Dean says finally.

Castiel hums in agreement and turns to look out the window, hands finally settling in his lap. The sun is setting on the island; the sky a warm orange and purple above them that Dean will try and fail to capture on film before the summer’s out.

“I hope they like me.” Cas speaks into the quiet of the car--the radio an indistinct hum sitting beneath the silence. The drive to Bobby and Ellen’s property is beautiful and serene, green and lush even in the middle of summer. The familiarity of it soothes Dean and he finds himself taking one, two deep, calming breaths, his eyes swimming as he tries to focus on the road ahead. He’s reminded of hushed mornings and soft snow and the very first time Cas kissed him. Of afternoons on the ice, passing plays between them, perfecting the bond of the Profound Pair. Of evenings eating takeout on the floor and kissing lazily on the couch in front of the television until they both fall asleep. Maybe, if he squints his eyes and holds his breath, he might find those moments again, buried somewhere deep inside, perhaps extant, perhaps not.

“I signed for six years in Boston,” he admits to the back of Castiel’s head. He watches Cas turn to face him, not sure what to expect. The admission is met with a cautious smile and a soft,

“Congratulations, but I already knew that. It’s all over hockey Twitter.”

“I wanted to tell you…”

“You don’t owe me…”

“As a friend, and my captain and…”

“And what?” Cas asks. It comes out harsh and Dean huffs a laugh.

“And I’m an asshole. Self-centered and weak and scared most of my life for the world to see me as I really am and I owe you an explanation.”

Cas looks at him thoughtfully. “So. Explain.”

“I cheated on Crowley and I didn’t want to admit it. That’s why he hates me. I deserve his anger and his retribution. I ran away from what we had even before the dust settled and I’ll probably regret hurting you for the rest of my life. I let down pretty much everyone I love but…”

“But what?” Cas prods.

“But I want to fix things with you. I want to spend my best years in Boston with you and the rest of my life making it up to you.” Dean knows he should stop there, but he’s all in and Cas deserves honesty, and so much more. “I want to see you smile in the mornings and go running with you til I puke and I want to buy a house with you in Winchester, Mass because it’s stupid and funny and we can. I want to put in a fucking white picket fence and shit and have Sam’s damn dog over and...You asked me what I keep for myself and it's you, Cas. I want you.” Dean’s voice breaks and he swipes a hand across his face before he truly embarrasses himself and fucking cries.  “But what do you want?” He asks, an echo of their first night together, in the back seat of the Impala, before Dean fucked everything up between them.

“I want…” Cas begins. His face is serious and still but kind, as always. “Shit, you fucking asshole, I want you, too.”

Dean chortles a wet noise and reaches over to grab Castiel’s hand. He laces their fingers together and places it on his lap, tracing Cas’ knuckles with the pads of his fingers.

“I do want you, Dean,” Cas reiterates. “But I want the best you. The honest and hardworking you. The man I fell in love with last fall because he was determined to prove everyone who had ever said a disparaging word about him or his new team, wrong. No more secrets, no more lies. No more self-martyring bullshit because you don’t know how to have feelings. Let’s start fresh. Be true to ourselves. Fuck the press and fuck everyone that isn’t on our team,” he finishes, eyes glossy and hopeful. Dean slows down the Impala, stopping right there in the middle of the road to pull Cas close. No one is around for miles as he and Castiel kiss for the first time in months. It is soft and chaste and Cas tastes as sweet as Dean remembers.

They are the last to arrive for dinner. The cars are parked on the street, with old Roadhouse Rink gear and his family scattered across the driveway for a game of ball hockey. Alex is in goal, precisely because that isn’t her position and no one wants to block shots from a World Cup medal winner, anyway. Jo is playing center with Jody as her left wing and Sam as her right. Bobby, Charlie and Jess face against them.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you started without us!” Dean hollers as he walks up the driveway.

“Time out!” Charlie cries before turning to them. “Dean’s on our team, no offense, Cas.”

“None taken. I prefer to kick his ass once in awhile, anyhow, just to remind him I can,” Cas chirps as he kicks off his shoes and grabs a pair of rollerblades in his approximate size from the pile on the grass.

“Oh, yeah, Novak?” Dean answers. “You’re going down!”

Dean and Cas get into position as the timeout winds down. They’re defense, and both stand by their respective nets, sticks in hand, glaring at the opposition as if it were game 7 of the finals and not a driveway ball hockey game played in borrowed gear.

“Let’s do this!” Charlie announces and there is a flurry of movement as Jo drops the ball between Jody and Bobby. Jody knocks it behind her and suddenly, it’s on Dean’s stick. He skates up to neutral pavement and passes the ball to his left, where Sam snatches it up. He rolls down the driveway toward Alex, but Jess hip checks him and then steals the ball right off his stick.

“Ha, babe, gotta be faster,” Jess chirps, pushing passed Jo and tossing to Castiel.

“You’re not even in position, Cas!” Dean yells even as Cas fakes left then goes right to get around Dean, slamming the ball right through Alex’s five-hole.

“Goddammit, Dean!” Alex grunts at him. “You get distracted by those big blues, man? What the hell?”

“It’s not my fault he thinks he’s PK Subban, or something,” Dean grouses. “I thought defense meant protect the net,” he says loud enough for Cas to hear on the other side of the cement drive.

“Don’t be mad, Dean. I thought we shared a more profound bond?” Cas teases from across the makeshift rink and damned if he doesn’t say it with a straight face, too.

“I see how it is, Novak.”

“Oh, I like him,” Jody chuckes to Charlie, who nods.

“Cas can hold his own, I told ya,” Charlie grins before she drops the ball for the face-off, this time, between Sam and Jess. Jess knocks it between Sam’s legs where the ball finds Dean’s stick and now it’s his turn to take off. He skates down toward Alex, who grimaces at him before snatches his one-timer right out of the air.

  
“Not quite, Winchester,” Alex grins and Dean answers her smile with a genuine one of his own. He had been nervous for Cas to visit Victoria after everything they’d been through, but looking around at his family and his friends, gathered together to celebrate their joint accomplishments after a tiring week of volunteering for the kids in their community, Dean wonders how he ever doubted that this would be one of the best experiences of his life, with all the pieces of his heart slotted together to fit, if not perfectly, well enough to work.

Castiel’s team beats Dean’s four to three and just in time for dinner. By the time sun sets around eight, the group is ravished and stumbles into Ellen’s kitchen dirty and desperate for food. Ellen’s been married to a hockey player for twenty years and not only did she and Bobby raise Jo, but they fed Dean and Sam through their formative years, during which the three teen hockey players could demolish a refrigerator full of leftovers on one winter afternoon. In the kitchen, the group finds a spread set up buffet-style and Ellen’s name is blessed numerous times as they get ready to serve themselves. There are four pans of lasagna set out on the kitchen island, three large bowls of salad, two platters of cheese, crackers, fruit and veggies with a case of bottled water and a few scattered Gatorades in the ice chest. A stack of plates, napkins, utensils and cups are on one side of the island, where Ellen stands guard.

“Winning team, goalies first, then defense, left, right and center,” she says, handing out plates to her players.

“Oh come on, mom,” Jo cries. “I’m starved!”

“You don’t mind the rule when you play net, Jo,” Alex says, smug, before pushing her way to the front of the line and grabbing a plate from Ellen. “Thank you, Mrs. Harvell-Singer.”

“Suck up.”

“Shut it, Joanna Beth,” Ellen snaps before offering a sugary sweet smile to Alex. “You’re welcome, honey. Thanks for netminding.”

“Goalies are so weird,” Sam mumbles beneath his breath, which earns him an elbow in the ribs from Jo.

“Watch it, Winchester,” she warns him. “Goalies are awesome.”

“I can vouch for Sam. Every goalie I’ve ever met has been a little strange,” Dean offers, falling into line behind Alex. “Flower pets his bars, Holtby talks to his and I think I saw Goldof kiss his water bottle, once.”

“I get along with goalies better than any other position, Joanna,” Cas interjects. “I suppose I’m a little strange, myself, but I honestly think it is focus and single mindedness more than anything weird, though.”

The room is quiet and Dean holds his breath for a brief moment before Jo snorts.

“Told you, Winchester!” She yells before hip checking Sam into the place behind her in line.

“You’re going to trust _Cas_?” Sam squawks. “He likes _Dean_!”

“Hey!” Dean interrupts.

“What? It’s true. His judgement is flawed,” Jess teases.

“Not fair,” Dean says, sticking his tongue out at them both before piling lasagna high on his plate.

“That’s enough outta you, Dean Winchester. Castiel, you seem like a smart boy,” Ellen deadpans. “You sure you wanna deal with this one for another six years?”

Dean, curious, turns to look at Cas, who smiles at him and winks.

“I think I can handle him,” Cas replies to the hoots and hollers of Jess, Jo and Alex.

“Can it, ya idjits,” Bobby grumbles finally. “I’m hungry. Keep the line moving.”

After the group fills their plates, they move to the dining room. The table is huge and reminds Dean of winters at home, when the Harvell-Singer’s invited not only the Winchester boys over for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but any local kid who played hockey and needed a place to go for the holidays. The house feels most like home when it’s full of people--more than the apartment he and Sam grew up in across town, more than his house in Vancouver ever did. It’s funny though, Dean thinks as he slides into a seat between Castiel and Jody. He has missed Boston since their season ended, and yet, with Cas at his side and their conversation under his belt, Dean feels more settled than he has all summer long. His thoughts are interrupted when Bobby stands, clears his throat and addresses the table.

“I wanna make a toast,” he begins. “Stop shoveling food into your mouths like cretins and pick up a glass.” Bobby waits for every person at the table to raise his or her cup before beginning. “Here’s to the ninth successful finish to our the summer hockey program!” Those around the table break into applause and cheers, which only die down when Bobby raises his hand up for silence. “Without the hard work and dedication of every single person around this table, we wouldn’t have been able to pull it off. With the help of the Bruins organization, for the first time in hockey camp history, we raised enough money to give each girl who participated, not only new gear, skates and sticks, but also a substantial scholarship that will allow her to continue training throughout the school year.” He turns to Dean, who squirms in his seat but doesn’t break eye contact. “Most of all, here’s to you, son. Your commitment to the program here in Victoria is an inspiration to this town, this table and to me. We are so proud of what you’ve accomplished here and up at the Show.” Bobby raises his glass and turns to Cas, whose eyes widen comically as he looks more and more uncomfortable at the attention.

“You and your team have helped turn Dean into the man we always knew he could be. We thank you.”

Cas doesn’t say anything, but tilts his glass toward Bobby and nods his chin slightly.

“ _Za Vstraychu_ ,” Cas replies. “To our meeting.”

“To our meeting,” the table echoes around Castiel and Dean, who takes a sip of his beer and then stands to his feet.

“Thank you all,” he begins. “I didn’t know what to expect from this season or this summer, but both have been full of pleasant surprises and important lessons. You have stood by me, supported me, listening to me cry and bitch and moan, some of you…” Dean glances at Sam and gives him a rueful smile. “Some of you more than others.” He clears his throat and raises his glass, silently swearing to himself as he feels his eyes well up. “But seriously. Thank you. To our meeting,” he finishes, voice rougher than he intended. The group toasts once more, and Dean slides back into his seat. Cas rests his hand gently on Dean’s wrist.

“I’m glad I'm here,” he says, simply.

“Me too.” Dean replies.

***

That night, Dean drops Cas off at his hotel after an excruciating make out session in the front seat of the Impala that ends when Cas begs off with the assurance that he _wants to_ but just _not_ _tonight_.

“We have waited this long, Dean. Let’s take it slow.”

 _Slow_ apparently means leaving Dean with a raging hard-on the entire drive home.

“Cas…”

“Dean.” Cas’ voice is low and gravelly and Dean’s dick twitches in his jeans at the sound of it. “We’ve got an early flight back to Boston tomorrow and then…”

Dean totally doesn’t mean to distract Cas from talking, it’s just that spot behind his left ear needs to be nibbled on, like, yesterday.

“And then the... _Dean_ , _come on_ ,” he struggles to continue. “The pressers for You Can Play…” The words break off as Cas turns to kiss Dean once, twice, on the lips, before opening the door to the Impala and dragging himself out of the front seat. He’s half hard still, and Dean smirks and waggles his eyebrows, smug and breathless and so, so happy. “And the parade on Saturday and then our very first Bruins Hockey Camp,” Cas finishes, breathless as he leans down into the window of the Impala for a quick kiss before turning to walk back to his hotel.

“It’s going to be great, Cas,” Dean says as he waves goodbye, hoping his mussed hair and kissed-out lips still convey the sincerity he feels. Even after a grueling week of Hockey Camp in Victoria, Dean looks forward to helping create an LGBTQ friendly environment for teens who play hockey. When he, Cas, Pamela and the management staff of the Bruins sat down, before even meeting with the YCP people, they discussed what they wanted an LGBTQ Hockey Camp for Teens hosted by the Bruins to look like. The group brainstormed, tossed around ideas and eventually decided it was going to be like every other hockey camp across North America, but without any trace of the homophobic atmosphere so prevalent in sports’ locker rooms and arenas. Even as they are hustled to the airport the next morning and on the long flight back to Boston, Dean never loses the excitement for his time with the kids and he knows that Cas feels the same way.

At the presser, Dean has to stifle first a yawn and then a smile when he hears Cas tell the room, “We want to provide an environment of acceptance for athletes of all orientations, gender and race,” the Bruins Captain recites to the reporters back at Boston Gardens. “We have invited over 50 athletes from all over the world who were nominated by their local clubs and who exemplify the qualities and values of the You Can Play Project and the Bruins Hockey Club. We will be filming for Bruins Behind the Scenes, and so no reporters will be allowed in the rink during trainings, but we’re excited to see you all at tomorrow’s Boston Pride Parade and the awards’ ceremony next Friday.”

The room erupts in noise, but Pamela lets the crowd know that the guys have meetings all day and have to rush out to the next big thing. As she and her minions shuffle Dean, Cas, Joshua Eden and Naomi Sinclair from YCP out into the hallway and toward the parking structure, Dean sidles up to Castiel. They are heading to the photoshoot with the new rainbow themed Bruins tees that were created for them to wear especially for the Boston Pride Parade. of which they are both Grand Marshals. Dean pulled his shirt on as soon as they were finished with the scrum, and Cas has his slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” Dean whispers so only Cas can hear. Castiel turns and smiles, big and honest and it makes Dean’s heart burst with love. He has his phone in hand, already set to camera mode. “Wanna take a selfie?”

Castiel huffs a quiet laugh but nods and moves his head in close, slowing down their stride behind Pamela. They both pointedly ignore the disapproving glare of Naomi, who moves out from behind them so that she isn’t photobombing the picture. Joshua smiles at them, but doesn’t stop moving. In a moment, they’re alone, sort of, and Dean snakes his arm around Cas’ waist, pulling him close.

“You know, this is what got us in trouble in the first place,” Cas says before resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. Dean grins and snaps the picture with his free hand, examining the image before grunting a satisfied noise and opening up his Instagram app.

“Yeah. Maybe no super obvious post-coital pics for a while, eh?” Dean jokes.

“Oh my god, you’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

With their faces still only inches away from each other, Castiel turns his head and brushes his lips against Dean’s. It’s a soft kiss, full of promise and hope for the future.

“Yes, I really do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Da": Yes. 
> 
> "это слишком рано для этого. Удачи каша": It's too early for this. Good luck, Casha.
> 
> "по английски, пожалуйста.": Speak English, Please. 
> 
> "Za Vstraychu": To our meeting (or "To meeting you")

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!


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